Black Ice
by FutureMrsStabler
Summary: An unplanned stop sends Elliot into some of his worst nightmares and the SVU squad on a frantic race to get to him before it is too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Olivia Benson scurried up the steps of the 16th precinct, her purse bumping against her shoulder. An older man was kind enough to hold the door for her, and she spared him a grateful smile as she dashed through it.

Not bothering to wait for the elevator, she hurried to the stairwell and began pounding up. Hopefully, Cragen was in a good mood.

The morning had been a crapshoot from the moment it started. First her alarm had mysteriously failed to go off and she had woken up forty minutes later than normal. Since she was running behind, she decided to skip the shower and washed her hair quickly in the bathroom sink.

The blow-dryer shorted out in the middle of drying her hair, and as she got dressed, she had discovered a rip in the middle of her favorite blouse.

By the time she had another blouse ironed, it was ten to eight. She was supposed to be at work by quarter after. She had thrown the blouse on quickly and dashed into the kitchen to grab a cereal bar on her way out the door.

Then she couldn't find her keys. They weren't hanging on the hook where she usually kept them, and searching all around the countertops produced nothing. Nearly fifteen minutes and almost a dictionary's worth of curse words later, she finally discovered them between the sofa cushions of her couch.

She had ten minutes to get to work by the time she pulled out of her apartment complex, and it took her thirty on a good day. As she was speeding down the road, a white Oldsmobile had decided to pull out from a side street in front of her, making her slam on brakes to avoid it. A loud cursory exclamation and a long horn blast from Olivia did nothing to appease the driver from going thirty miles an hour the entire time.

It was twenty-five after when she pulled over the curb and bounced into the precinct parking lot. She grabbed her gun and slipped it into the holster as she quickly locked the car. She had taken the steps almost three at a time into the building.

She reached the fourth floor, slightly winded, and pushed the metal bars quickly, throwing open the door.

_Smack!_

She barreled through the door and right into a person on the other side who was reaching for the door handle. She gasped in shock and shot her hands out to avoid the other person, backpedaling frantically to stop her momentum.

It didn't work. The force sent them both tumbling to the ground. Olivia heard a splash as she landed on top of another body, her fall cushioned while the other person hit the linoleum hard.

She gasped again, horrified, and struggled to lift herself off as quickly as she could. Her hands pressed into a cotton shirt and she heard the person underneath her groan. She froze with shock when she recognized the voice.

"Jesus Christ, Elliot," she breathed in embarrassment, looking down into the blue eyes of her partner. She quickly scrambled off of him and stooped to grasp his hand, pulling him up. "Are you alright?"

Elliot Stabler chuckled wryly as he got to his feet. "I'm okay," he said with a lopsided grin. "You okay?"

He glanced down at himself and grimaced. Following his eyes, Olivia immediately saw a large wet stain on the front of his dress shirt. She looked down to see an empty cup next to a puddle of coffee on the floor. She groaned in embarrassment again.

"I'm so sorry," she said guiltily. "I wasn't even looking." She looked at him meekly. "I'll go get some paper towels."

She turned toward the restroom. He chuckled, grabbing her arm to stop her.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I've got another shirt in my locker." He grinned mischievously. "I'll send you the bill for my dry cleaning later."

She laughed softly; relieved he was in such good spirits. He picked up the purse from where it had fallen on the ground and fell into step beside her as she walked toward the bullpen.

"Rough morning?" he asked with a sly grin.

She chuckled wryly. "You could say that."

He gave her an amused look, eyebrows raised, and looked pointedly down at his shirt. She grimaced in embarrassment. "Okay…so it's not that rough." He laughed.

"So where were you headed?" she questioned, turning her head to look at him fully.

He looked back at her with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Oh," he said after a minute when it came back to him. "We got a lead in the Schillings case…Cap told me to go ahead down there and said he would tell you to meet me when you got here."

Her interest was instantly perked. They had been working on this case for almost two weeks. An eighteen year-old girl named Jessica Schillings had run away from home and had been convinced by some friends to get into prostitution. She wasn't as hard core as a lot of the older girls were, but was surprised when one of her "customers" insisted that they go somewhere other than the hotel she was working out of. He told her that he had a place in a nearby town and would take her back the next morning.

He ended up taking her across an abandoned country road and raping her in his truck, throwing her out into a ditch when he was finished and hightailing away. She was found three hours later when the sun came up by an elderly couple driving back from a fishing trip.

Elliot and Olivia had caught the case after the girl was admitted to the hospital, and right away were wary. She had been very defiant, refusing to tell them the names of any of her fellow prostitutes or the man she had been with, and they found out a few days later that she had lied about her age: she was really only fifteen. When they asked her to describe the area she had been found in, she said she couldn't remember. They asked her where she had first met up with the man to plan the little "getaway", and she said she couldn't remember that either.

The detectives suspected that the rape story was a lie, but they had no proof. They took a composite of the man she had said attacked her and put out an all-points bulletin as required, but decided that a little more digging into this girl's background was in order.

Fin Tutuola was crossing the room from the lockers when the two detectives walked into the office. He looked at Elliot's shirt and raised his eyebrows. Elliot looked pointedly at Olivia, and Fin turned his stare to her.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't ask," she said, going to her locker.

Elliot smirked as he went toward the stairs. Captain Cragen came out of his office and looked at her warily.

"Sorry, sir," she said quickly. "I had a few problems this morning."

He eyed her for a minute before shaking his head in defeat. "Don't make it a habit, understand?" he said sternly.

She shook her head quickly as Elliot came back down wearing a new shirt. Don looked at him quizzically, but shook his head and didn't comment.

"Fin, Munch," he said, turning toward their desk. "Novak wants you two for trial prep."

Munch scowled. "They've got Balfus for the defense," he said sourly. "I'm going need trial meditation to keep from slapping someone." He got up from his chair.

Elliot grinned. "I see you two are still good buddies."

It was a well-known fact that John Munch and defense attorney Rebecca Balfus butted heads every time they came within two feet of each other. He couldn't stand the woman, and she returned the affection in equal measure.

He glared at Elliot, making him laugh. Fin shook his head in annoyance as he followed his partner out the door. The captain just rolled his eyes and headed back to his office.

"….so he stopped the truck. I was getting out and that's when he…he…."

Jessica couldn't finish the sentence. She broke down into tears.

Elliot got up from where he was sitting beside the hospital bed, unable to bear the sound of the girl's sobs. He leaned down and placed a comforting hand on the side of her face.

When she opened her eyes, his heart stopped. For a moment, his daughter Lizzie was looking up at him.

He swallowed hard. "Jessica," he said softly, running his hand down to her cheek. "Calm down, honey." He reached for her hand and felt her clutch it frantically. "It's alright. We won't talk about it anymore."

He ran his hand over her forehead the same way he was used to doing for his daughters. It was an instinctive reaction and he couldn't help it. She closed her eyes and began to calm down, seeming to draw comfort from his gentle touches, so he kept it up.

Olivia couldn't speak as she watched her partner comfort the distraught young girl. It had surprised her, the way he had moved so quickly when she started to cry, but she had been touched when she saw how he acted. She heard him sigh heavily and was jolted out of her thoughts, realizing that Jessica had fallen asleep.

Elliot closed his eyes quickly against the emotion that came rushing up and took a deep breath to compose himself. He kept his hand resting on her forehead for a moment before reluctantly removing it.

She met his eyes and could see in the crystal blue exactly what he was thinking about. He blinked harshly, shaking his head. His face was tight.

"You ready?" he asked softly, his jaw clenched.

She looked at the sleeping girl sympathetically. "Yeah," she said, just as softly.

Cragen glanced up from where he had been standing talking to Munch when the doors opened.

"Did you get anything?" he asked them.

Olivia sighed and blew through her cheeks. "Yeah, we got something," she said tiredly, dropping down into her chair and folding her arms across her chest. "A headache."

He looked at her in confusion. Elliot came around to his side of the desk and began looking through the papers scattered on top.

"I don't know what to think anymore, Cap," he said, sounding equally as tired. He glanced at his superior and shook his head. "Yesterday I was ready to drag that girl in for lying to us and making us spend all this time on a false accusation…." His voice trailed off and he shook his head again after a minute. "She's either a very good actress or she was brutally raped." He shrugged helplessly and sat down. "I just don't think she could fake that kind of reaction."

Cragen furrowed his brow and looked silently over at Olivia for her input. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "I don't either," she said after a pause. "There's something going on here. It's like she wants to protect her rapist."

The captain looked at them silently for a minute. "Alright," he said finally. "Then we'll find out what her story is." He looked at each in turn. "Have you talked to anyone from Vice? Maybe they can shed some light on any past cases like this involving prostitutes."

Olivia looked over at Elliot, who in turn was looking back. He shrugged, and so did she. "I guess we'll pay them a visit," he said for the both of them. He began to stand up.

"We can't yet," Olivia interrupted. "They just went to lunch. What time do they get back?" Both looked questioningly at the captain.

"1:30," Cragen answered. "In the meantime, I want you two to dig up information on one Arthur Willis." Elliot looked at him questioningly.

"He was convicted in 1997 for three counts of rape and two counts of sexual misconduct involving a minor," Munch interjected. "Novak informed us this morning that he missed his scheduled parole hearing and no one knows where he is."

"Lovely," Olivia sighed, pushing aside the Schillings file. "Another rapist on the loose." She fired up her computer and then stood, walking over to the coffeepot.

The captain began walking back to his office, then stopped suddenly and turned back. "Oh, Elliot," he said. "Before I forget…." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink slip of paper. "Kathy left a message for you."

His head shot up. "Kathy?" he said quickly. "My Kathy?" He stammered, flushing. "I mean my.-my ex Kathy?"

He hadn't heard from her in almost two months, give and take the stiff "hellos" and "goodbyes" exchanged when picking up and dropping off the kids every other weekend. She rarely ever called him at home, and certainly had never called him at work since the divorce. Why would she call him? Had something happened?

"Elliot."

He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized Cragen was still holding out the slip of paper to him. He took it and looked at it.

_Date: 7/14/06_

_Received at: 11:23 am_

_For: Elliot Stabler_

_From: Kathy Stabler_

_Message:_

_Please call as soon as possible. 515-2343_

He looked back up at the captain. "Did she say if anything was wrong?"

Don shrugged. "No," he answered. "Just that she needed you to call her back as soon as you could." Seeing the worried look on Elliot's face, he added, "She sounded fine as far as I could tell."

Olivia glanced discreetly at him as he got up, pulling out his cell phone as he walked toward the stairs. A _click_ diverted her attention back to her computer screen as the results of the data base she was searching came up, and she focused on her task again.

He came back down about fifteen minutes later. He didn't appear angry or upset, which Olivia took as a good sign.

"Vice called," she informed him as he was coming down. "Captain wants us to head over there."

"You get anything on that Willis guy?" Elliot asked.

She shook her head. "I gave it over to Fin," she answered. "He and Munch haven't caught anything pressing." She looked at him carefully. "Everything alright?"

Her tone was hesitant, and it wasn't lost on him. "Yeah," he said immediately. "Her attorney has some family crisis out in the sticks and needs to move our meeting we had set up for next Friday. So I have to drive up to some town in God- knows- where to meet on Monday instead."

She grimaced. "Sounds fun," she said lightly.

He rolled his eyes in reply. "It'll be even more fun explaining to Cragen," he said wryly.

Olivia chuckled sympathetically as the phone rang.

"Benson," she answered, picking it up. Her eyes met Elliot's. "Yeah….okay, thanks Eddie….yeah, we'll see you in about fifteen." She hung up.

"Vice back?" he guessed.

She nodded, getting a notepad out of a drawer in her desk. "Said they might be able to spare us a few minutes after they finish with their DD-5's," she said sardonically. She scoffed lightly. "How nice of them to fit us in, huh?"

Elliot looked at her in disgust. "Oh, yeah," he said disgustedly, as she got up. "They're a bunch of regular saints."

To say that the detectives from the 1-6 Special Victims Unit and the 1-3 Vice Unit didn't think too highly of each other was putting it nicely. The 1-6 thought the squad from Vice was full of arrogant, glory-hungry assholes, and in turn Vice felt that SVU was vigilante and self-righteous.

The two squads almost never coincided, and made it a point to stay away from each other unless absolutely necessary. It usually wasn't a problem, but certain cases sometimes managed to overlap. When that happened, things were always done professionally but with as little amicability as possible.

The pair arrived at the 1-3 precinct in Brooklyn at quarter to two. They knew right away that they were in for a good time when they walked into the bullpen and saw twenty detectives watching for them. Little comments, subtle and non-subtle alike, began flying as soon as they stepped through the door.

By some miracle, both Olivia and Elliot held their tongues while they waited for the detective who had called, Edward Jackson, to finish his telephone conversation. The man seemed to deliberately take his time concluding his call, hanging up and spinning slowly in his chair to face them.

"Look'ee here," he said in a thick New York accent. He stood up to stand almost to Elliot's height. "The dream team in the flesh." He grinned slyly and looked Elliot up and down. "Thrown anyone through any windows, lately, Stabler?"

Elliot fixed him with a cold glare, as did Olivia.

Gossip was an unfortunate certainty among the police, so it had come as no surprise to Elliot when word had hit the wire about the case with Gordon Rickett last year. It did surprise him, however, to find out that precincts as far away as Staten Island had heard the details. He couldn't even keep count of the number of smart-ass comments he had received from other detectives, some from people he had never even seen before.

They all seemed to be chomping at the bit to piss him off. He didn't know who it was who coined the "UnStabler" phrase, but it had spread like wildfire among the department. No one was dumb enough to say it to his face, but knowing it was going on behind his back infuriated him.

"Could we get on with this?" Olivia interrupted before her partner had a chance to gather any steam. She looked at Jackson warningly, who glared right back at her. "We don't have all day."

He walked past them to the file cabinet across the room, and they followed him. They stood right next to the drawer as he rifled through the massive archive inside.

"Careful, Eddie," Elliot said snidely, unable to resist. Jackson glanced up at him coldly. He smirked. "Wouldn't want to run the risk of a paper cut…I don't know how you guys manage such a high-profile job."

Eddie snatched up a file and slammed the cabinet shut loudly, fixing them with a raised eyebrow. "Do you know how many dead prostitutes we get every day?" he said in annoyance. "You guys are asking us to dig through a haystack the size of Texas to find a fucking fly's egg."

"We don't have a dead prostitute," Elliot interrupted. "We've got a runaway who was dipping her toe into selling herself out and ended up raped."

"_Allegedly_ raped," Jackson corrected snidely. He smirked at the look that flashed over Elliot's face for a split second. "You think we weren't notified about this one? A raped prostitute… are you kidding me? This has our name all over it."

"I didn't see you at the scene," he said coldly.

Olivia heard the challenge in her partner's voice, and could feel him tightening his stance next to her. She stepped slightly in front of him and pressed her elbow lightly into his hip warningly. He was purposely spoiling for a fight.

"It should be ours," Eddie said. "But you know how busy we can be…with our 'high-profile job' and all." He narrowed his eyes as he mocked Elliot's words. "Should we bow to the almighty Sex Crimes Unit now or later?"

"Look," Olivia interjected angrily. "At this point, we'll take whatever you can give us. We're at a dead end."

Jackson scoffed. "There's a surprise." He slapped the file against Elliot's stomach. "Knock yourself out," he said rudely, brushing past him. "If that's all…some of us have _actual_ suspects to go after."

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but Olivia elbowed him hard.

"Thanks," she said with deliberate professionalism. "We'll get this back to you as soon as we can."

"You do that," Jackson said, smirking condescendingly.

She shot her partner another warning look as she pushed past him and walked toward the door. Elliot grudgingly followed.

There was a dramatically loud cough and someone muttered, "_UnStabler" _before quickly coughing again. Snorts of laughter followed.

Elliot whipped around instantly, his posture challenging. He was at his wit's end with them and wanted more than anything to bust someone upside the face. Dead silence fell immediately as the detectives quietly snickered.

Olivia came back toward him, grabbing his arm roughly. "Let's **go**, Elliot," she said, pulling him toward the hallway.

He glared at them as he broke from her grasp and left the building. Olivia held out her hand for the file and he passed it to her as they got into the car.

The car was silent as they began driving back to Manhattan. Olivia spread the folder open on her lap and began looking through it.

"**Man** I can't stand Eddie Jackson," Elliot burst out suddenly, making her jump. "God."

"I didn't notice," she said with a smirk. "Did you ever think that maybe he was trying to **make** you mad, Elliot?"

He paused for a minute, seeming to be thinking about it. "Yeah…you know what? You're right," he said, sounding surprised. His eyes narrowed after a second. "That makes me madder!"

She rolled her eyes, sighing. Elliot grinned at her reaction, reaching down to switch on the radio.

"I'm starving," he announced. He turned toward her. "Want to grab some lunch?"

Olivia shrugged. "Sure," she said, not looking up from the file. "You're buying."

She grinned, seeing the indignant look cross her partner's face without having to look at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story. **

**Author's Note: **EEK….so sorry about the wait for a new chapter. This last week of school has been hell and my computer has been acting a little strange for a few days...I had to give it a stern talking to, but I think we understand each other now-the next chapters should be up more quickly….please stay tuned!

"Hey, how you doing," Elliot greeted as he walked up to the hot dog vendor. "Let me have two with relish and onions…" He glanced up at the menu for a second. "And…one plain."

"Anything else I can get ya?" the man asked in a friendly voice as he began picking up the hot dogs with a tong.

Elliot turned slightly and looked at Olivia with a questioning expression. She shook her head. "Nope, that's good," he answered, pulling out his wallet.

The man handed over the plain hot dog and went to work on the other two. Elliot picked them up and handed them over to Olivia so he could reach into his wallet.

"That's $6.50," the man said.

Elliot handed the man a ten and waved his hand, smiling. "Keep it," he said. "You've got the best dogs on the block."

The man looked surprised. "Thank you," he said after a minute. He smiled widely. "You have a great day, sir." Elliot winked at the man and turned away.

"Hey," the man called after him, making him turn back questioningly. "You didn't get anything to drink."

He glanced at Olivia, who was sitting on a nearby park bench. "That's alright," he said.

"You take your pick," the man insisted, opening up the large cooler next to the stand. He smiled, gesturing. "Anything you want."

Elliot smiled and shrugged, walking back up to the stand again. He bent down, retrieving a Pepsi for Olivia and a Diet Dr. Pepper for himself. "Thank you," he said. He reached for his wallet again, but the man waved him off.

"On the house," he said, winking. He smiled again and walked over to the bench.

He handed Olivia her soda as he sat down. She set it beside her and held out four dollars. "Here," she said, handing him the money to cover her lunch.

He smiled. "Nah, don't worry about it," he said. "It's on me today."

An indignant look that he knew all too well crossed her face. "Elliot, take it," she demanded, handing it over. "I was kidding with you…you're not buying my lunch."

Again he pushed it away, this time more firmly. "Keep it," he said. He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Remember you still owe me for dry cleaning." He took a huge bite of the hot dog.

She shook her head, but admitted defeat and picked up her own hot dog. "Only one?" she questioned as she took a bite.

She picked up a napkin from the stack resting between them and looked at him with raised eyebrows as she chewed. Elliot had one of the most ferocious appetites she had ever seen; she was amazed at how slim he was with all he could put away. He usually put back three hot dogs in a matter of minutes.

Her partner shrugged. "I'm not very hungry today," he said, popping open the Dr. Pepper.

Olivia looked at him suspiciously, but didn't comment. She had a feeling he would end up trying to con her out of one of her hot dogs in a minute.

"So, Liv," Elliot began, swallowing a swig of soda. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

She actually had given very little thought to the weekend; it took her a second to remember that it was Saturday already. She shrugged.

"Eh….I don't know, "she answered. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You want to come to church with me?"

Elliot was a devout Catholic and went to church every time he had a chance. But he never pushed his ideals on anyone, preferring instead to keep faith quietly. Although Olivia herself practiced no religion, she never scoffed him. She actually admired him for it. It was nice to see him still have peace about life among the horrors that they were forced to drudge through every day.

He invited her to come every time he had plans to and she always turned him down as politely as she could. She had gone to church with him and his family a few times in the past, and once right after the divorce, but she just didn't feel comfortable.

He never pushed her on it and was never offended when she declined, but made sure she knew she had an invitation every time he went. Olivia suspected that it might have more to do with the fact that both of them usually spent the weekends alone than the actual matter of faith.

He watched her hesitate, and figured she was trying to come up with the nicest way to turn him down. He smiled patiently and gulped the last of his hot dog, reaching for the soda.

Olivia cocked her head after a minute. "Okay," she said. She smiled as she watched Elliot choke on the soda.

He looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

She shrugged. "Sure, why not?" It wasn't like she had major plans anyway.

Elliot looked at her and grinned, but didn't make a big deal. "Cool," was all he said, taking another long swish. He crinkled the can in his hand when he finished.

Olivia looked at him in exasperation. She never did understand why men felt the need to finish their food in as little gulps as possible. Three gulps of hot dog, done. Four swigs of soda, done.

He grinned, seeming to read her mind, and began reaching over her. "You going to finish that?" he said, trying to swipe her second hot dog.

She elbowed him hard in the side. "Yes!" she said, holding her hot dog out of his reach. "Go get another one if you're still hungry; I'm not giving you mine."

He sat back and grinned begrudgingly. Olivia took a bite of the hot dog and chewed slowly, determined to ignore Elliot as he stared at her patiently.

After a minute, she rolled her eyes. Taking another bite, she shoved the rest of the hot dog at him and rolled her eyes again. He grinned devilishly and gulped it quickly.

"What did you get from Vice?" Cragen asked when he saw them walk back into the squad room.

Olivia held up the file. "They've got three cases dating back almost six years," she said. "All involving prostitutes and around the same area where Jessica Schillings was found." She smacked it down on her desk.

"Anything jump out at you?" he continued.

Elliot noticed that the captain was looking at him. "Not….that I could tell," he said slowly, looking to Olivia. She nodded her confirmation. "Anything looking similar is probably coincidental at best." He shrugged.

Cragen scowled. He hated dead ends as much as they did. "Alright, well…." He shrugged as well. "Look through it one more time and then leave it. We might have a new perspective come Monday."

Elliot looked up quickly. "Oh, yeah…." He stood up. "Captain, do you have a minute? There's something I have to talk to you about."

Cragen looked surprised. "Sure," he said after a minute. He looked at Elliot, puzzled. "Is this a private conversation?"

He shrugged. "Well…" He glanced at Olivia. She already knew about it, and Munch and Fin weren't there at the moment. "I guess not."

Don sensed the detective's uneasiness and smiled lightly. "Come in my office," he said, nodding toward it. He turned toward Olivia. "Olivia…Casey called Munch and Fin back to her office a little while ago. Go ahead and check over what they've got on Andrew Willis. We need to find out what's up with this guy, the sooner the better."

She nodded. The captain went to his office where Elliot stood next to the door and ushered him in, shutting it behind them.

"What's up?" he asked, sitting down at his desk. He was surprised to see the detective already making himself comfortable in a chair. He smirked, chuckling lightly. Elliot Stabler was never short of confidence, no matter when or where.

Elliot linked his fingers together. "I need to put in a request to have Monday off," he said. "I know it's last minute, but I just found out about it this morning. I'll work overtime next week to make up for it."

Don nodded. "Kathy?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

He hoped it wasn't anything serious. Cragen knew Elliot's family quite well since he had been in Special Victims for more than a decade. He had always liked Kathy; when Elliot had first joined the squad, she came to all of the parties and functions they had. She was always sociable and pleasant, and Don had always thought that they made a great couple.

The separation had knocked Elliot's feet out from under him and ripped him in two. Don

had to watch helplessly as his best detective and the man he loved like a son spiraled out of control. It had killed him to see Elliot so full of rage and hurt. It was like he had transformed into a different person.

"Yeah," he answered, sighing. He shook his head wryly. "We have a meeting with her lawyer on Friday to discuss alimony, but the guy had some sort of family emergency come up. So we have to meet Monday instead up in…."

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember the name of the town. " Chesterfield?" He shrugged. "I don't know. Some hick town up near Syracuse. Of course, he insists on meeting in some swanky restaurant that will probably cost half my paycheck."

Cragen chuckled. "So…you'll need the whole day, then?"

If that's alright," Elliot said, nodding. "I figure I'll leave about eight to get there in time for lunch and hopefully be back by six."

Don nodded. "Alright," he said. "That's fine. We can work out overtime later."

"Thank you, Captain," Elliot said.

"Don't mention it," Cragen said. He put on a stern face, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Now get back to work, Detective."

Elliot chuckled and stood up. "Yes, sir," he said, smiling.

At 6:30, the phone on Olivia's desk rang. "Benson," she answered, putting down her pen and stretching widely.

"Hey," Fin said. "Munch is heading over to…"

"NO!" she heard Munch say loudly, interrupting him. "I didn't-"

Fin pulled the phone away from his ear and turned his head toward his partner. "Yes, you are," he called. "You lost…get over it while you walk to the deli."

"What did you-" Munch's voice became closer and suddenly it was in her ear. "Don't listen to him, Olivia. He's-"

She laughed, holding the phone away from her ear as the sound of their arguing became louder. "Hey-" She laughed, trying to cut in. "Guys…"

"_Munch_ is heading over to the deli," Fin said quickly, yanking the phone out of his partner's reach. "Do you guys want anything?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Hold on," she said, putting her hand over the receiver. "Hey," she called to Elliot. He turned away from his locker to look at her, eyebrows raised. "You want anything from the deli?"

He shook his head, waving off the offer. She nodded toward the office and Elliot stepped over into the open doorway, sticking his head in. "Cap," he said. "You want anything from the deli? Munch is stopping for dinner."

Cragen paused mid-sentence and placed his hand over the telephone receiver. "Pastrami on rye," he called before resuming his conversation.

"Pastrami on rye for the captain," Olivia said, having heard him. "Ham and Swiss on a hoagie for me." She smiled. "Thanks."

She noticed Elliot gathering his things as she hung up. "You going home?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, locking the locker back up. He turned back toward her and smiled sarcastically. "The pit is waiting."

"The pit" was the current name of his new apartment. After a long divorce trial, an even longer custody hearing, and nearly three months of sleeping on the couches of his co-workers, he had finally landed his own place. Unfortunately, his work schedule had made it impossible to make the place resemble something of a home. Every morning he woke up vowing to tackle it when he got off work….and every night he came home exhausted and collapsed into bed.

He had only unpacked the bare essentials that he needed to get him through each day, and slept on a thin quilt thrown over his bed. His electricity needed some repair and the walls looked like they had been in need of a paint job since the 1960's, but he was thrilled to have found a place that was still in Queens. He loved the area, and it made seeing his kids easy and convenient.

Olivia grimaced. "Mmm," she grunted sympathetically. "Well…have a good time."

He smirked. "Always." He went to his desk and got his keys, looking at her with a grin. "See you tomorrow. Pick you up at 9:30?"

She smiled and nodded. "9:30," she confirmed.

He winked and left the squad room.

An hour later, he was pulling into the apartment complex that was now his residence. It unnerved him that he still had the impulse to turn off of the highway at the first exit, the one that he had taken every day for more than twenty years. It was hard to accept the fact that it would no longer take him home.

Shutting off the engine, he got out of his black Explorer and locked it. He stopped at his mailbox and headed upstairs to the fifth floor.

Apartment 513. His home now. He sighed as he walked down the hallway that made him feel ridiculously claustrophobic toward the door. There was nothing to distinguish it from any of the others.

Anonymous. The word made him ill. He was no longer Elliot Stabler, devoted family man and caregiver. Moving in had finalized the fate he had been fearing since the day Kathy had left him.

His life was reduced to anonymity.

Shaking his head, he slid the key through all of the locks and pushed the door open. Olivia had teased him when he first moved in because he had purchased three extra locks to install along with the standard one…even though she knew full well that he knew about the four locks she herself had in her apartment.

Stepping into the foyer, he flipped on the lights and dropped his keys on the small table next to the hall closet. He walked through the living room and into his bedroom.

He quickly shed his work clothes, pulling on a pair of mesh basketball shorts and an old Tool concert t-shirt as he headed back out.

For a minute he just stood still and looked around. There was so much stuff everywhere that he didn't even know where to start. He decided to tackle the most obvious task first and began to tug the boxes out from where they sat beside the couch.

By 10:30, the living room finally resembled something of a human inhabitance. Most of the cardboard boxes had been unpacked and flattened to be taken to the dumpster in the morning. The flat-screen television had been mounted and the entertainment center set up. He had his computer desk set up next to it with all of his office supplies organized on top. The cherry oak bookcase, his pride and joy, was predominantly displayed next to the window.

After shelving the last of his extensive book collection (his secret passion that he had never shared with the squad), he stood back and took a deep breath. Finally. One box left.

Pulling it over beside the desk, he sat down on the floor and ripped off the packing tape.

He carefully lifted put the first newspaper-covered item and set it on the floor, unrolling it gently. Lifting the frame, he fingered the glass wistfully.

His mother at thirty-five smiled out at him, looking radiant in her maternity smock. It had been a Christmas present on what they hadn't known would be her last one alive. She had presented each of her six children with the framed photo, saving him for last. Her eyes had taken a special glow when she looked at her youngest child, her hand reaching up to cradle his cheek.

"That's you and me, kid," she'd whispered. Her eyes had been tear-filled as she squeezed his hand. "You and me." Elliot had cried.

His eyes filled with tears and he quickly swiped his arm over his face. Getting to his feet, he placed the frame on top of the bookshelf in the very center. School photos of Elizabeth and Dickie were in a double frame that he placed on one side. The senior portraits of Kathleen and Maureen went on the other side.

He paused as he lifted the next one. It had been taken at his sister-in-law's wedding. Kathy looked gorgeous in her light blue dress as she wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind, smiling widely. Both sets of blue eyes were bright and stunning, his a shade darker than hers.

After gazing at it for a minute, he placed it next to Maureen's photo. The last frame held a recent picture of himself, Olivia, and Cragen that had been taken at his last birthday.

The framed diploma from Queens College proudly proclaiming his Bachelor of Arts degree in criminal justice went up on the wall over the desk. On one side of it he placed a commendation that he had received when he was in the Marines; on the other side a mounted brass medal and certificate from when he had been promoted to 1st grade detective five years earlier.

He stomped on the box to crush it flat and checked his watch, surprised when he discovered that it was nearly 12:30. Satisfied that he had at least gotten one room finished, he decided to call it a night and headed for bed.

Olivia climbed out of the bubble bath and wrapped a fluffy towel around herself, reaching over to the sink to turn off the radio. Leaning down, she unplugged the stopper in the tub and let the water begin to drain out. Grabbing her magazine and cordless phone from where she had placed them on the floor next to the tub, she turned off the light and walked out of the bathroom.

She went into her bedroom and opened her closet, debating on what she would wear the next morning to church. Not that she had all that big of a selection; she wore dresses mostly only on dates and those were certainly not appropriate for church.

Digging through her slacks, blouses, and sweaters, she began searching for the skirts that she knew she had in there somewhere. It had been so long since she had worn a skirt that she was betting they were stashed in the back and wrinkled. After pushing a large pile of sweaters to the floor, she finally found what she was looking for.

Pulling all of them out, she tossed them on the bed and put the sweaters back in their place. Coming out, she switched on the iron and let it heat up while she examined the wrinkled mess on her bed.

She had a short jean skirt that she had probably worn when she was twenty, a suede khaki-colored one that she had been unable to resist on clearance, a modest black one that she sometimes wore to court, and long maroon-colored skirt that she liked to wear in the winter with black boots.

Holding each one up for a minute, she decided on the khaki one and tossed it to the side. Then she went ahead and ironed the other ones, figuring she may as well hang them up because she never knew when she might need to wear one. Once that was done, she ironed the khaki skirt and laid it out flat on her pillow.

It was going to be hot tomorrow, so she didn't want to wear a heavy top. Poking through her closet again, she picked out an olive-colored tank top that had a slightly sequined gold pattern etched across the bust. The straps were thin, and after a moment's consideration, she also picked out a light white shrug.

Putting the items together, she critiqued her choices and decided that she was satisfied. Nodding to herself, she placed each article back on its hanger and hung them on the closet doorknob for the next day.

Once that was accomplished, Olivia unwrapped the towel from around her body and put on her pajamas. She headed back out into the living room to shut off the lights and check the door locks. It was almost 1 am when she crawled into bed.

Elliot huffed in annoyance and tried again to position himself comfortably. For some reason, he wasn't able to fall asleep tonight, despite it being nearly 1:30 in the morning. He had been tossing around for almost an hour and was still wide-awake.

Thoughts of Monday kept creeping into his mind. He didn't know if he was strong enough to take this step yet. Kathy's insistence on setting up equal alimony payments told him that she was ready to move on….and he didn't think he was.

He couldn't deny it, and wouldn't if anyone had ever asked. But he was stuck in a place right now that was darker than he imagined. He still loved Kathy more than anything in the world and always would. But to be quite honest, if given the chance to have her back, he didn't know if he would do it. So much had changed now between both of them, individually and as a couple, that being around her now was like being around a stranger. She was Kathy, but she wasn't his Kathy anymore.

But he also didn't know if he could handle having things become final. To settle the divorce would mean that she would be permanently out of his life and would start to forget about him. He couldn't do that. Never in a million years could he forget about her, and he didn't _want_ to. To see her moving on and finding another man would kill him.

He had always felt bitter over how complicated things had become, but if he were to be honest with himself he knew he had to take some of the blame. When she announced that she was leaving him last year, he hadn't realized then that she had been testing him. Testing him to see if he would fight for her, for their marriage….and he hadn't. He had let her go. It was the biggest mistake of his entire life.

If only he could have that second back…that one second before she walked out the door….he would throw his badge into the Hudson if that's what it would take to make her stay. She had always accused him of putting her and the kids second over his job; it had been an argument that had lasted almost the entire duration of their marriage. He had always become so defensive….looking back now he realized that his defensiveness stemmed from the truth that he had refused to acknowledge.

The one thing that had torn them apart was now all he had. He had sacrificed everything- his wife, his children, and his happiness- for a job that would forever run circles around him. At the end of the day, there was always another rapist, another child abused, another elderly man murdered. No matter how many hours he put in, that fact would never change.

The irony was murderous. Every day he wished to God that he could walk away from his job, and every second away from work was spent thinking about the next rapist he needed to catch. It was a self-destructive cycle that had bled into his every pore. He no longer had control of his life….his life had control of him.

Huffing again, he turned over and tried to force the thoughts from his mind. Monday was going to come whether he was ready or not, and the last thing he needed tomorrow was not enough sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story. **

**Author's Note: **I am not Catholic and am aware that the services are different than the Baptist ones that I participate in every Sunday. The church scene is short and is only shown for a specific purpose, so please take no offense.

_Ring…Ring…Ring…Ring… _

A moan floated out from the lump in the middle of the bed. Elliot struggled to push the covers off of himself and reached for the phone, knocking it off the base. He cursed and sat up all the way, leaning down to retrieve it.

"Hello?" he grumbled.

The amused voice of his partner floated into his ear. "Hey…" she asked. "Um…are you planning on me walking to your church?"

"What?" he asked, startled, and shot his hand over to the clock, turning it to face him. It was 9:40. "Fuck!" He scrambled out of bed.

"Ooh…" Olivia grinned. "Nice, Elliot. It's always good to start the church attitude with cursing."

"I'm sorry, Olivia," he said, hurriedly tearing a shirt off of a hanger. "I totally crashed last night. I must have forgotten to set the alarm." He searched through his closet for a black belt to wear with his slacks. "I'll be at your place in thirty minutes."

She scoffed. "You better not be," she warned. It took at least fifty to get from Queens to Manhattan. "The last thing you need is for Cragen to find out you've gotten a speeding ticket."

"Just be ready," he said, and hung up before she could protest that _he_ was the one not ready. Shaking her head, she placed her cell phone back in her purse and sat back down in the chair of the lobby, watching through the doors for her partner's truck.

She was absolutely shocked when he squealed to a stop in front of her building twenty-five minutes later. He left the engine running and jumped out, hopping up the front steps of the building quickly. He was startled when the door opened as he was reaching for the buzzer and Olivia stepped out.

"Sorry," he said breathlessly. "Come on." He waited for her to pass and walked down the steps after her.

Ever the gentleman, he stepped in front of her as she reached the truck and opened the door. She looked at him in surprise. "Thank you," she said, sliding in. He grinned and shut the door, dashing around the front to the driver's side.

He checked his mirror and pulled away from the curb, zooming toward the expressway. Olivia looked at him suspiciously. "_How_ fast were you driving, Stabler?"

He grinned wickedly. He had done at least 70 all the way to Manhattan. "Don't ask," he replied, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. She chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"You look nice," he commented after a minute, turning to look at her. It was the truth. He could hardly remember the last time he had seen Olivia in a skirt….he always wondered why she never wore them. Of course, he was old-fashioned…he always thought a woman looked her best when she dressed up.

She smiled. "Thanks," she said again. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow in approval. "So do you."

Elliot's attire wasn't that much different than what he usually wore to work every day, but he still looked very handsome in his black slacks and light grey shirt. He wore a black silk tie and his shiny black shoes looked new, although knowing him, he had probably had them for a while and had just never worn them.

He flashed a grin. "Thanks."

"How late did you stay up last night?" she asked with raised eyebrows. It wasn't like Elliot to oversleep.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I finished the living room at about midnight, but I couldn't fall asleep for some reason." He shrugged again, raising a playful eyebrow.

They arrived at the church just before the service started and slipped into a pew near the middle. He let out a breath, relieved they had made it on time, and settled into the seat.

Olivia let out a breath too, trying to dispel the feeling of tension that always arose when she was in a church. She was startled when Elliot leaned over to her.

"Hey, Liv?" he said softly. He smiled when she looked at him. "Thanks for coming with me."

Olivia smiled warmly.

The choir special was beautiful and she couldn't stop the tears that welled up in her eyes as they sang. She knew that Elliot noticed, and waited for him to comment. But he didn't. He simply smiled and lightly rested his hand over hers.

The bishop rose when the choir finished and stood behind the pulpit. "Ushers, please come forward for offering collection," he said. The four men walked toward the pulpit to retrieve the collection plates. She was startled when Elliot turned to her and handed her an envelope. "Put this in for me."

She looked at him in confusion. Before she could comment, though, the bishop spoke again. "Today's offering special will be performed by Mr. Elliot Stabler."

Her eyes widened and she swiveled her head to look at her partner in shock. He winked as he stood up and walked to the piano beside the pulpit. Sitting down, he lifted his fingers to the keys and looked up for the bishop's signal. The old man nodded with a smile and he softly began to play.

Olivia couldn't keep her jaw from dropping. She'd been his partner for seven years and had no idea he could play, much less like that. The song was symphonic-worthy. She continued to watch in astonishment, seeing the obvious pleasure that the playing was giving him. His eyes had closed and he seemed to be putting his soul into the song with each nimble stroke of the keys.

The audience began applauding when he was through and he jumped, momentarily forgetting about them. He blushed as he stepped down and returned to the pew.

Olivia smiled widely when he slid next to her and squeezed his hand. "That was _amazing_," she whispered. He blushed again and she squeezed once more.

Despite how beautiful it was, Olivia was ashamed to admit that she didn't pay attention to the rest of the service. She jumped when she felt Elliot's hand on her shoulder. He looked at her in confusion.

"You ready?" he asked.

She shook herself quickly. "Yeah," she said, getting to her feet. "Yeah."

She followed him up the aisle. It took a while to get to the front doors because someone seemed to stop Elliot every ten feet to compliment his playing. She smiled. She didn't think she had ever seen her partner blush so much.

"So, you want to go have lunch?" he asked as they were getting in the truck. "Or do you have plans?"

She shook her head. "No plans, except maybe grocery shopping." She smiled. "Unless you want to do that for me."

He smirked. "Ah….pass," he said. "Thanks anyway."

They went to a nearby Chinese restaurant for lunch, and Olivia insisted on paying for his since he had paid for her the day before.

"It was a hot dog, Olivia," he protested as he pulled out his wallet. "Four dollars isn't going to break me."

She rolled her eyes and snatched the bill away from his reach. "Your lunch was seven dollars," she said. "I think I can afford it, Elliot."

He shook his head, admitting defeat. "Well, I'm getting the tip then," he said firmly, pulling out some money. He tossed it down on the table and looked at her challengingly. She rolled her eyes again as they got up to leave.

"So what time are you getting back tomorrow?" Olivia asked as he pulled up to her building and stopped the truck.

"Hopefully no later than seven," Elliot replied. "But that all depends on how fast I can get Kathy's lawyer off my back." He smiled wryly. "Thanks for coming, Liv. I appreciate it."

"You know, it surprises me…." She smiled at his confused look. "But I actually enjoyed it." Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "Hey, yeah…what's up with this morning? How come I never knew that you played the piano?"

He shrugged, looking decidedly embarrassed. "I-I don't know," he said uncomfortably. "It's no big deal, Olivia…I play sometimes."

She gaped at him. "_No big deal?_" she repeated in astonishment. "Elliot, that was the most fantastic thing I've ever _heard!_ You have real talent there….I think it's a very big deal."

He was blushing furiously again. "It's not something I like to broadcast, ok?" he mumbled. "I don't do it a lot…I usually play the offering music once a month or so if I can get there." He glanced at her defensively. "It's a way to relax for me. My mom taught me when I was eight."

She smiled, seeing his discomfort, and gave him a break. "Well, you did awesome," she said seriously, turning to look him in the eye. "I mean that, Elliot. It was beautiful."

He looked surprised and smiled after a minute. "Well…" he said. "Thank you."

Smiling, she opened the door. "Thanks for the ride," she said as she got out. "See you….I guess Tuesday?"

He nodded. "Yep," he confirmed. "Bye, Liv."

She waved as she walked up the front steps and unlocked the door. He waved back, driving off once she was safely inside.

The phone rang as he stepped inside his apartment. Shutting the door, he ran to grab it.

"Hello?"

There was a slight pause before a hesitant voice responded. "Hi, Elliot."

Elliot froze, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. After a minute, he said softly, "Hi, Kathy."

There was an awkward pause. Clearing his throat, he ventured, "How-how are you?"

"I'm ok," she said, sounding just as nervous as he was. Another pause. "You?"

He nodded instinctively. "Good….I'm doing good."

Yet another brief silence. He rolled his eyes nervously toward the ceiling, sitting down slowly on the couch.

"Well, I…" Her words came in a sudden rush. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok…I mean with the meeting change and everything," she hurried to say. "I'm sorry it was so last minute. I had just found out myself when I called." She swallowed hard and fell silent.

Why was it so hard to talk to him? This was Elliot…the boy she had fallen hard for at 17 years old…the same one who had been the first person she had ever told that she loved…the man who could make her laugh no matter how shitty of a day she was having… the man she had devoted herself to for twenty years.

She listened as he cleared his throat slightly, a nervous habit that she had become accustomed to, and she could see him right now, scratching absently behind his left ear like he always did when he was tense.

"Yeah," he said after a minute, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic. "It's not a problem…I cleared it with Cragen, so I've got the whole day."

"Oh, good," she said, a little too quickly in her mind. "That's good."

Why was it so hard to talk to her? This was Kathy…the girl who had made him drool the first time he had seen her in her track uniform when he was 18…the same one who had written "E.S. & K.M. Forever" in his high school yearbook the year he graduated…the woman who had the power to make him melt when she smiled…the woman he had devoted himself to for twenty years.

_She divorced you, dumb ass. Maybe that could have something to do with it. _

After another silence, she said, "Well…I just called to make sure, Elliot. I…I'll let you go now."

He sighed suddenly. "Kath…"

She inhaled sharply at the use of her nickname. "Yeah?"

He bit his lip. For the briefest of seconds, he was tempted to tell her that he missed her…needed her…was dying without her.

Elliot closed his eyes and blew through his teeth. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Never mind." He sighed lightly. "I guess I'll…see you tomorrow."

She nodded nervously without realizing it. "Yeah," she said. "Guess so." After a minute, she said softly, "Goodbye, Elliot."

He closed his eyes again. "Bye, Kathy."

Leaning forward, he let the phone drop the floor and scrubbed his eyes wearily. After a minute, he picked the phone back up and stood, walking over to hang it in its cradle.

Sighing heavily, his gaze wandered to the bookshelf, lingering over the picture of her. Then he moved over to the photo of his mother.

Walking over to the far end of the room, he sat down in front of the electric keyboard and began to play.

"YES!" Fin leaped up from his couch in excitement at the monster grand slam that the Red Sox had just scored. "That's what I'm talking about, baby!" He strutted over to the television, grinning. "Take _that_, Atlanta!"

The phone rang. Crossing over to the couch again, he picked it up and pressed the mute button on the remote. "Hello."

"Hey," Munch said.

He groaned before another word could come out of his partner's mouth. "No," he said immediately.

John started on the other end. "What?" he asked. "Wh-"

"We're supposed to be _off_ today, man," Fin said desperately. "If you're calling about a case, don't even finish speaking."

"Sorry," his partner said wryly. "Come on, Fin…when have we ever _really_ been 'off'?"

Fin groaned again pathetically and flopped down on the sofa in defeat. "What is it?" he grumbled.

"Seems our good friend Andrew Willis has just made a surprise appearance in Chinatown," Munch said. "Cragen wants us down there to make the collar."

"What about Liv and Elliot?" he protested. "Why didn't he call _them _to do it?"

"According to him, we got a free day yesterday because of the trial prep," he replied. "So he's giving it to us."

"Yeah, right," Fin muttered. "'Free day' my ass…let's see _him_ sit in stuffy office for eight hours and listen to an attorney."

He about jumped ten feet when he heard the captain's voice suddenly. "Actually, I have been known to sit in an office for long periods of time, Detective."

"Shit!" he squawked in surprise. "I…I mean-Captain, I was just…"

Cragen smirked. "No harm, no foul," he said easily. "I was a detective once too, you know."

Fin smacked his forehead harshly, blushing. "Where's it going down, Captain?"

"Corner of 23rd and Dunston," Munch piped up. "I'm on my way now."

"Right," he replied. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Fin," Cragen said. "Fill me in when you guys get back." He hung up and resumed working.

Fin waited until he heard the click before exploding. "_Asshole!_" he seethed in astonishment. "I can't believe you would do that! That was low even for you! What the hell is your _problem?_"

Munch waited patiently until his partner finished his verbal explosion. "You done?" he said calmly once he stopped.

"That was dirty, man," he muttered. "Fucking dirty."

"It wasn't my doing," John said. "Cap called me first and told me to put you on three-way to save time." He scoffed. "I would have warned you if I had known you were going to say something like _that_."

"Sure you would have," Fin retorted, rolling his eyes. He sighed and looked at the muted television scornfully. "Looks like I'll miss the rest of the game."

John smirked. "The Braves are going to kick your ass," he said. He personally didn't care for baseball, but he enjoyed any chance to yank his partner's chain. Fin had been talking about this game since the day before.

His partner snorted. "In your dreams," he said, and hung up on him.

_Splat! _

Elliot grimaced when he felt something wet hit him directly between the eyes and paused, one hand coming up to wipe it away. There was amber fluid on it when he pulled it back.

Frowning, he put the paint roller back into the bucket at his left and walked over to the portion of the wall by the bed, running his hand over the wood paneling.

More amber-colored liquid appeared on his hand. "Damn it," he muttered, stepping back again. Stepping over the bucket once more, he reached for the brown can again and dipped the small paint brush into it.

After his talk with his ex-wife, Elliot had spent the next two hours attempting the next biggest challenge in the apartment- his bedroom. He had made quite a dent and was proud of himself.

The queen-sized mattress was now set up with a fluffy navy blue comforter, matching sheets, and two huge pillows that looked so comfortable that he was anticipating going to bed that night. He had unpacked and put away the rest of his clothes in the closet and small dresser, and had set up his small television on a table in the corner of the room.

He planned to give the entire apartment a new coat of paint and had wanted to start with the living room, but after setting up his bedroom he had decided to begin there instead. It had been an extremely time-consuming and tedious process putting primer on the walls, and now that he was starting to paint he was finding that the primer wasn't drying very well.

Going over to the other side of the room, he tested out the primer on that wall carefully. He sighed with relief to find it was dry. Shaking his head, he left the other side half-finished and brought the paint over to that wall.

Olivia pushed the door to her apartment open with her foot once she had unlocked it and struggled inside. Her purse slipped precariously low on her shoulder as she concentrating on juggling the laundry basket and three grocery bags that she had in her arms.

Dropping the basket of clothes that she had just finished washing onto a chair, she went into the kitchen and deposited the groceries on the counter. The light on the answering machine was blinking. Hanging up her keys, she pressed the button.

"Olivia, it's Captain Cragen."

She froze as his voice filtered through her apartment. She had remembered to turn her cell phone on, hadn't she? _Oh, boy…_ He was probably pissed.

A chuckle was heard. "Don't worry, Detective," the message continued. "You're home free today. I was just letting you know that we've got Andrew Willis in custody now; Fin and Munch arrested him at about four o'clock this afternoon."

She relaxed, glancing at the clock. It was quarter to seven.

"Be prepared to start processing him tomorrow morning. For right now, this takes precedence over the Schillings case. See you in the morning." _Click. _

She chuckled at her initial nervousness. When she had first become a cop, she dreaded having anyone from work call her on a day off…she had almost gone so far as to unplug her phone.

Her stomach growling brought her attention back to the present. She emptied the grocery bags and poked through to find the bag of lunch meat she had just bought. She made herself a turkey sandwich and nibbled it while she put the groceries away.

Glancing at the clock again, she picked up the remote lying on the breakfast bar and flipped on the TV. The opening scenes of "Desperate Housewives" were just beginning.

She brought the basket of laundry into the living room and sat down on the couch, absently pulling articles of clothing out while she watched the show. After a little while of pulling out silk panties and soft blouses, her hand encountering a stiffer material caught her attention.

She glanced down at the basket as she pulled out the shirt that Elliot had been wearing the day before. She lifted it and inspected it carefully to be sure that all of the coffee stain had been removed.

Nodding in approval, she laid the shirt to the side to iron later and focused on the show again.

Blowing through his cheeks, Elliot bent down and loudly snatched up the last of the plastic covering off of the floor of the bedroom. He balled it up and threw it into the pile that had collected by the door.

He looked around, feeling a ridiculous amount of happiness at the sense of accomplishment that surged through him. He had always been that way. One thing he hated was not being organized.

The walls looked like fresh and new. He had coated them with light green paint, just to give the room a little vibrancy. It worked. He felt better just looking at them.

Nodding in satisfaction, he picked up the tray of green paint and carefully walked out into the living room with it. He poured the remaining paint back into the can by the door and dropped the tray next to it before going back into the bedroom.

He gathered up the plastic and carried it out to the living room as well. Dropping it next to the other items, he walked through the kitchen and retrieved the flattened boxes that had collected after unpacking everything.

Grabbing his keys as he crossed back through the kitchen, he looped them around his fingers and dropped the boxes next to his accumulated pile. For a moment he stood back, debating how he was going to do this.

After a minute, he stacked the cardboard into a compressed pile. Reaching for the plastic next, he wrapped it around the paint roller and dropped it on top of the cardboard. Gathering up the remaining pieces that hadn't wrapped around, he dropped the paint-filled tray on top of them to hold them in place.

Carefully picking up the entire pile, he stood for a minute to balance everything out to be sure it was going to work. Once he was satisfied, he carefully held it in one hand while he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Not bothering to lock all of the locks, he reclaimed his careful hold on the pile and walked to the elevator.

The night air was heavy and hot when he pushed through the back doors, a stark contrast to the frigid air-conditioning of the building. Elliot walked around to the dumpster, balancing the pile in one hand as he lifted the lid. He hefted everything inside and slammed the lid shut again. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he unlocked the back door and walked back inside the building.

Getting off the elevator at his floor, he walked down the hall toward his apartment. He still couldn't get over how quiet it was in this place. It seemed like he was the only one there sometimes. Quickly going into his apartment, he locked the door behind him and headed straight for the bedroom again.

He shucked off the old t-shirt he had worn to paint in and threw it in the hamper. Walking shirtless down the hall, he pulled a towel from the linen closet and headed for the shower.

He emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later much more relaxed and ready to take it easy for the rest of the night. He glanced at the clock as he walked into the kitchen. It was only 9:00, but he was pretty worn out from painting all afternoon. Shutting off the lights, he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and headed for his bedroom.

After brushing his teeth, he pulled back the comforter and climbed into the bed. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips as he pulled the material back around his body. This was much, _much_ better.

Reaching up to turn off the light, he flipped on the TV and relaxed against the pillows. He had gotten maybe halfway through the channels when he was suddenly reminded of what was going to be happening in the morning.

Fuck. So much for relaxing. He sighed and put the remote back on the bedside table, not really interested in what was on the TV anymore. Leaning back against the pillow, he stared up at the ceiling as his mind began spinning full-force, promising that sleep was not going to come for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

It had started to rain when Olivia pulled into the precinct parking lot Monday morning. Not hard, but if the rumble of thunder in the distance was any indication, it was going to get hard soon. She dashed into the building quickly.

"Read the sports page yet?" Fin asked as he walked into the squad room. He set his things down on top of his desk and stared pointedly at his partner who was sitting down doing paperwork. Munch looked up at him blankly.

Fin smacked a newspaper down in front of him and smirked. John glanced down at the page.

A brightly colored still shot of Red Sox second-baseman Mark Loretta leaping to catch a fly ball filled the page. Printed underneath in bold red letters were the words "Sox Make Braves Quiver in Atlanta".

Munch rolled his eyes and pushed the paper away. "Whatever," he muttered. He glanced up at his partner and saw a shit-eating grin on his face. "Who has time to watch baseball anyway?"

Ducking his head again, he concentrated on writing while trying to ignore Fin's gleeful smile. He could feel his face heating up involuntarily and was sure his partner could see it.

Still grinning, Fin took the paper back and put it on his own desk without speaking.

It was sprinkling when Elliot left his apartment at quarter to eight that morning. By the time he got to the expressway, it was raining hard. He groaned when he saw the cars ahead already stopped. He never could understand what it was about rain that made people so afraid to drive….it was _water_ for crying out loud.

Drumming his fingers against the side of the window, he sighed and eventually shifted the truck into park. It was obvious that traffic wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. He turned up the radio to drown out the sound of the rain hitting the roof and the cars honking around him.

"Olivia."

She turned around, one hand still inside her locker, and faced the captain as he stepped out of the office.

"Eddie Jackson says he needs that file back that you and Elliot borrowed on Saturday," he said.

She looked at him in dismay. "Today?" she said. "I've barely looked at it yet."

He looked at her sympathetically. He felt the same animosity towards the Vice squad as they all did, maybe even more so. "Yes, I'm afraid," he said. "He was insistent."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm sure he was," she muttered. She had no doubt that Jackson just wanted to be a pain in the ass. He probably hadn't looked at that file twice since receiving it. She sighed. "Let me photocopy the information and I'll go run it back to him."

The captain smiled empathetically. "Thanks, Olivia," he said. "Trust me, I don't like dealing with them any more than you do."

She grimaced and shook her head, walking to her desk to retrieve the file.

Don turned around to face the other two in time to see Fin flick a paper football through John's outstretched fingers. His eyes narrowed.

"Do you two not have enough work to do?" he asked threateningly, striding up to their desk.

Fin jumped and snatched the paper football up as Munch swiveled his chair around quickly and pretended to be typing on the computer.

"No, Captain," he said, typing quickly. "We're good, thanks."

He suddenly noticed that Fin was looking at him with an expression of disgust. Startled, he turned his head toward him, silently asking what was wrong. His partner kept his face down, but John could see him muttering under his breath.

"Then how about getting to it," Cragen said with a raised eyebrow, staring pointedly at Munch. Fin muttered again, shaking his head slowly.

He stared at them menacingly for a minute longer before walking back toward his office, shaking his head in secret amusement.

Fin snapped his head up as soon as the captain was gone. John looked at him. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.

His partner didn't answer, instead shaking his head and rolling his eyes before grabbing a report to begin. John stared at him again in confusion, totally not getting it, and shrugged.

When he turned back toward his computer, he suddenly understood. The computer that he had been so busily typing on to save face in front of the captain was turned off.

Turning back toward Fin, he smiled sheepishly. "Oops."

Traffic cleared up after about a half-hour, much to Elliot's relief. He began flying down the expressway a little faster than necessary just because he was so tired of sitting still. The rain was still relentless and after a little while he decided that maybe the speed wasn't such a good idea. Slowing to a more reasonable speed, he set the cruise control and turned up the radio to flip through the channels.

He approached the entrance ramp to Interstate 91 at 9:15. He was actually surprised because he had thought it would take him at least an hour to get there from the expressway.

He merged carefully into traffic and set the cruise control again as he headed down the long stretch of interstate that would take him to Syracuse.

Olivia stepped inside the doors to the 1-3 squad room and searched the room for Eddie Jackson. Not seeing him, she approached the nearest desk.

"Is Eddie Jackson here?" she asked.

Detective Jason Peters looked up at her. His expression showed confusion before he recognized her. His lips spread into a cocky smirk.

"Aw…where's the Incredible Hulk?" he said. "Did he need a day off from his anger management classes?"

She clenched her teeth to bite back the harsh reply that wanted to come out. "I have his file," she said, holding it out. "He said he needed it."

"Hey," a voice said from behind her. Turning around, Olivia saw another detective walking into the room. "What happened to your Siamese twin, Benson?" He grinned. "Wait, wait…let me guess…he threw a tantrum in the middle of an interrogation?"

Several laughs floated up from around her and Olivia's restraint snapped. She slapped the file down on Peters' desk and strode into the other man's personal space.

"You'd better shut your mouth," she said icily, getting right into the taller man's face. "Nobody disrespects my partner when I'm around, have you got that?"

The detective raised his eyebrows in amusement, but didn't speak again. Raising an eyebrow coldly, she stared at him a minute longer before whirling around to face the other occupants of the room. "Is Jackson here or what?"

Detective Peters smiled. "He's out right now," he said condescendingly.

Gritting her teeth, Olivia strode past him. "Give him that when he comes in," she said as she walked out the door.

Elliot glanced at the clock. It was quarter after 11. Looking down at the map lying next to him, he examined the road signs as he was flying past them. According to the directions, he should be hitting the exit for Chesterfield in the next half-hour or so.

Yawning, he stretched slightly and rolled his neck, hitting the cruise control again to give his foot a little break. He reached for the bottle of water sitting in the cup holder in front of the radio and took a long drink.

"Ugh."

Fin glanced up at the sudden intrusion of the steady quiet that had fallen over the squad room sometime during the last hour. Quiet was a blessed commodity that didn't get exercised very often. John threw down his pen and leaned back in his chair, stretching back as far as he could.

"I need a break," Munch declared, getting to his feet. "Anyone want to make a 7-11 run?"

Olivia looked over with a raised eyebrow. "Um…have you _seen_ the weather out there?" She swiveled her head pointedly toward the window and looked in disgust at the rain pouring in sheets over the city, scoffing. "I'll pass, thanks."

He looked at her in exasperation and then to his partner. "Fin?"

"Nope," he replied automatically, without even looking up.

John scoffed loudly. "Aw, come on!" He looked back and forth between them. "We haven't had a lead all day...come on!"

Both of them ignored him as they were accustomed to doing. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "No Slurpee for either of you, then."

He watched for a sign that they were paying attention. Not even a glance. Scowling, he strode toward the doors.

"Hot dog with sauerkraut!" Cragen called out as he passed the open office door.

"Fritos and a root beer," Olivia said, continuing to write busily.

"Apple Danish," Fin said.

Munch scoffed in disgust. "Moochers," he muttered, grabbing his jacket. "That's all you are."

They could hear him still muttering as he left. Olivia and Fin looked up and met each other's eyes, grinning.

It took more like forty minutes for Elliot to find the right exit. The pouring rain didn't help the situation.

Turning off of the interstate, he glanced at the map and took a right. Fields filled with high grass and pastures stretched as far as the eye could see down the winding road. There were no other cars in sight.

Furrowing his brow in disbelief, he checked the map again. Unless he had suddenly forgotten how to read a map correctly, he was going the right way. Feeling slightly tense, Elliot nevertheless began down the desolate road.

The longer he followed the curves of the road, the further away he seemed to get from civilization. He started when he suddenly approached a dead end and stopped the truck.

Had he missed a turn somewhere? Reaching for the map again, he stretched it out on the steering wheel so that he could look closely at it and began tracing the route he had taken with his finger. He wasn't a map expert by any stretch, but after three times connecting to the same dot with his index finger he couldn't chalk it up to a wrong turn.

Hesitating over the map, he chewed on his lip as he glanced at the clock. It was 11:45 and he had no idea where Chesterfield was or where _he_ was. He reached for his cell phone, debating on calling Kathy to get directions from her. He really didn't have a choice…who else could he call?

Sighing, he glanced up once more with his finger poised over the first number. Something suddenly caught his attention a little ways behind him….it looked like a sign. His eyebrows rose quickly and he disconnected the line, starting the engine again. Call him stubborn, but he really hated the idea of having Kathy know he had gotten himself lost.

Reversing slowly, he struggled to see out of the rain-fogged back window as the truck crawled along the dirt and gravel. He stopped beside the old billboard sign and strained to see the letters that were cracked and worn with age:

**Welcome to Chesterfield**

**Drive slow to see the town**

**Drive fast to see the jailhouse**

He scoffed impatiently. Figures….he had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to figure out where he was and he had ended up going the right way all along.

Shaking his head, he shifted into drive again and pressed the accelerator heavily. Now he was going to be late. That dickhead of a lawyer was going to be eating it up when he arrived.

After about thirty more minutes of abandoned fields and no living beings, he finally drove into a small town. Rundown wooden buildings lined the two-lane road on both sides and more than half had foreclosure signs. There was a pair of old black men wearing dirty coveralls walking along the side of the road looking like they were pushing 80 years old.

A small rickety vegetable stand stood by itself near an old barn. Three Ford trucks sat beside it that appeared to be 1955 models. A general store advertising black beans and sales on crawfish had a large wooden deck sprawled out onto the brown grass, with a group of old women sitting in rocking chairs barefoot watching a swarm of barefooted children scuffling around in the dirt a few yards away. Each child was soaked and didn't seem to even notice.

He unconsciously slowed his speed as he drove through. Heads all turned and stared as he passed by, and he self-consciously kept his eyes forward while covertly trying to locate the restaurant he was supposed to be going to.

Where the hell had Kathy _found_ this place? It looked as if someone had dropped a crumb on top of a map and built a town around it, then decided to draw New York over top and forgot to brush the crumb away. He wondered if this place had even seen the major interstate that had brought him here. Hell….he wondered if this town even knew what an interstate was.

It was quarter after twelve when he finally spotted the restaurant. It was actually shocking to see such a place after driving through the town. The seafood restaurant was large and well-furnished, with cars packed alongside the curb and in the adjacent parking lot. Bustle of activity could be seen from the open front doors.

Shaking his head, Elliot pulled into a parking space and shifted the truck into park. After shutting off the ignition, he dropped his head onto the steering wheel and let it rest there for a minute. It had been a while since he had driven such a long distance with no stops. He rolled his neck and stretched out his back muscles that were starting to ache with the prolonged tension.

He cracked the knuckles in his hands and scrubbed his face, blowing out a huge breath. Finally, he sat upright again and reached behind him for his jacket. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the door gingerly, sliding the jacket up over his head to shield himself from the pouring rain as he jumped out. Slamming the door shut, he hurried toward the porch that wrapped around toward the entrance, hitting the keyless alarm as he ran.

He ducked inside the doors quickly and stood to the side to avoid the crowd of people in line waiting for a table. The young woman at the hostess table spotted him and smiled warmly.

"How many in your party, sir?" she asked.

Elliot sidled closer while trying not to get stepped on. "None, thank you," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the bustle of the busy restaurant. "I'm meeting someone here."

The friendly-looking girl nodded, smiling. "Feel free to take a look around, then," she invited, gesturing.

He smiled. "Thank you," he said, slipping around her.

Scanning up and down the tables he could see produced nothing, as did a scan of the bar. Furrowing his brow, he stepped around a table of rowdy college-aged kids and into a corridor with more tables.

He was looking around the tables again when he suddenly felt someone grab his arm. Startled, he whipped around fast and came face-to-face with Kathy.

She saw his expression change quickly to one of nervousness as he looked at her, and knew that her own expression was probably just as nervous.

"Hi," she said awkwardly, cringing inwardly at how loud her voice sounded inside her head. A moment of awkward silence passed and her heart began to unconsciously beat faster.

Talking with him yesterday had brought home just how much she missed him. They may have grown apart after twenty years, but she still loved him. She knew that she had taken a cheap shot by leaving the way she had, and didn't blame him for hating her for it. It killed her inside, but it was just so complicated…she still didn't think she could explain it to herself.

She was relieved when he immediately smiled. "Hi," he replied, and surprised her by grabbing her into a light hug. She quickly returned the gesture, feeling like she was going to start shaking any second.

He let her go after a second and stood somewhat uncomfortably. Had he been too forward? Were you supposed to hug your ex-wife? Was it making it obvious how much he missed her? He felt his heart racing now. What if that had been a big mistake?

He was relieved when he saw that she had relaxed. Now she looked like the Kathy he had known for twenty years- the one who was always beautiful without even trying.

She was pleased to see that he looked less nervous. When he smiled again, she saw the self-confidence and charm that had always made her weak in the knees. His eyes sparkled and she nearly sobbed at seeing it….she had missed seeing those beautiful eyes light up around her.

"Well…come on," she said quickly. "We're over here."

He followed her to a table near the back. His heart immediately sank at the sight of the man wearing a three-piece suit. An open briefcase was on the table top with papers spread on the table beside it.

The man stood as they approached the table. "Elliot, this is my attorney, Dylan Simms," she introduced. "Mr. Simms, this is Elliot Stabler."

Elliot felt a pang in his heart, not missing the way she had opted not to address him with a title of any kind. The man was reaching to shake his hand, so he put on the best smile he could manage and reached forward.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stabler," Simms said.

He swallowed hard. "Same here," he managed weakly, withdrawing his hand.

The attorney sat back down and Kathy moved to sit in the chair across from him. After a moment's hesitation, Elliot sat in the seat next to her. They both had glasses in front of them, and Kathy reached over and moved the third one from where it sat beside hers.

"Here," she said, handing it to him. "I went ahead and got you a Diet Coke."

He took it, surprised. He was even more surprised when he saw the lemon slice on the side of the glass. She remembered what he liked.

Kathy saw the surprised expression and smiled lightly, guessing his thoughts. "Did you think I'd forget?" she asked softly.

Unable to come up with a response, Elliot turned toward the attorney. "Um…sorry I'm late," he said.

The man waved his hand and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "That's alright," he said and immediately got down to business. "We're here to discuss the alimony negotiations, am I correct?"

"Yes," she immediately replied.

"Yes," Elliot repeated after a minute.

He nodded and reached for some of the papers. "These are the sums of your combined incomes as of March 2005," he said as he handed them over. Elliot reached for the papers and held them so that she could see them as well. "Is everything correct?"

She examined them a minute and looked up at her ex-husband. He nodded. "Yes," she said.

Simms nodded as well. "Mr. Stabler, this is a copy of Ms. Martin's most recent tax return," he continued, reaching across the table with the paper in hand.

A waitress appeared as he was reaching for it and he was thankful for her presence, as it diverted their attention so that they couldn't see the shocked expression momentarily cross his face. He hadn't heard her called by her maiden name in nearly 22 years.

They interrupted for a brief second to order lunch and then got back to the task at hand. Elliot looked over the sheet of paper feeling sick, not really seeing what was written there. This was really happening. When they concluded with this, he and Kathy would be officially divorced.

"Now as per the court agreements, you are entitled totwenty-five percentof the combined assets accumulated during your marriage," Simms continued. He glanced up at Elliot then. "I understand that you are not filing for a reconsideration of this?"

Elliot shook his head. "No, sir," he said. "She and my children can have first dibs on everything. I'll take whatever is left."

The man nodded. "You also understand that you are obligated to pay Ms. Martin a separate sum for child support for three of your children that will not be included in the alimony agreement."

He nodded. "Yes," he said.

"Now, since your second oldest is almost of legal age, if you wanted to appeal for just the payments of your two youngest I can ask for a court continuance," Simms said.

"No," Elliot said quickly. "No, I don't want to do that. I want Kathy to have every penny she needs to care for three children."

The attorney nodded. "Alright," he said, making a note.

Kathy felt a rush of guilt that almost choked her. Elliot was being completely cooperative and selfless. Couldshe really put him through this?

"I want to change that," she announced suddenly.

Her attorney looked at her in surprise, as did Elliot. "I don't want Elliot to have to pay a separate amount for the kids," she hurried on. "I want you to cut the alimony agreement in half to include the child support."

Simms looked at her hesitantly. "Kathy…" he said, clearly not liking the idea.

"Kathy, no," Elliot jumped in, interrupting him. "You can't support four people on one income…do the separate payment."

"Elliot, you can't support yourself either if half of your income is cut," she argued, turning toward him. "Combining the two payments will take less out of your monthly income so you'll have enough to live on."

Elliot looked at her with a torn expression.

"Ms. Martin," Simms said hesitantly, trying to be as gentle as possible. "Combining the two payments will make the overall retainer lessen. That means that you will be less money each month to cover your children."

"They're _his _children too," she shot back quickly. "I've received primary custody. He's already being punished enough by not seeing the kids but every weekend. I'm not going to let this settlement drain his salary too." She raised an eyebrow adamantly. "If you don't do as I ask, I'll just file for a joint claim until I win."

Elliot was speechless as he listened to her. He couldn't believe that she was actually arguing for his side. By the look on her attorney's face, it was obvious he couldn't believe it either.

"Alright," he said after a minute. "That's fine, Kathy. We'll change it."

She nodded and looked at Elliot with a softness on her face that warmed his heart. "Thank you," he said softly. She nodded gently.

The rest of the meeting took approximately an hour and a half, and went rather smoothly. Her attorney went through each step of the process, with Elliot and Kathy contributing until they were both satisfied.

"Alright," Simms said at last, closing the last folder. "I believe that everything is covered. Mr. Stabler, you should be receiving a sum for the entitlement claim in the mail shortly. You can file to begin the asset process at that time." Elliot nodded.

The attorney stood, and they both followed suit. "Mr. Stabler," he said, reaching for his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you." He turned to Kathy and shook her hand as well. "I have thoroughly enjoyed representing you, Ms. Martin. Please feel free to call anytime you need to." He looked at them. "I sincerely wish both of you the best."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Simms," Elliot said with heartfelt sincerity.

"Thank you, Dylan," Kathy said, smiling. "For everything."

He smiled. "It is my pleasure," he replied. He began gathering his things. "I'm afraid I must be going now. I enjoyed working with you both."

Elliot stopped him as he was reaching for his wallet. "I've got it, Mr. Simms," he said.

"Thank you," he said in surprise.

He picked up his briefcase, bid them each a final farewell and handshake, and then was gone.

Elliot turned rather awkwardly to face Kathy, neither of them sure what to do now. He finally decided to make the first move. "Can you stay for a little while, or do you need to head back?"

She nodded quickly. "I've got the day," she said. He pulled her seat out for her again and she smiled as she sat. "Would you like to get some dessert?"

He sat down and smiled as well. "Sure," he said.

She signaled for the waitress and ordered them each a slice of cheesecake. When she turned back to Elliot, she noticed he was staring at her rather oddly.

"What?" she asked.

He blinked once. "Thank you," he said finally, looking at her openly. "Thank you for what you said about the kids."

She blinked as well and smiled rather shakily. "It's the least I can do," she said. "I don't want you to suffer because of this, Elliot."

He sighed heavily then. When he looked at her, she saw that his face looked tired. "Kathy, what happened?" he asked softly. His eyes were imploring and honest and she found she couldn't look away. "What went wrong between us?"

She closed her eyes. It was a question she had been avoiding ever since she had first left. But after the day's events, perhaps it was time he deserved a heartfelt response.

He watched her fall silent. He knew he was opening a can of worms, but couldn't help it. It was all he had been thinking about, and the day's events had just sharpened the need for reassurance. He didn't want to leave her remembering him as a bad husband. She didn't deserve that.

"I think," she said slowly. "I think…we grew up. We each fell in love with the kid that we used to be, and we don't know how to recognize each other for the adults we became."

She was startled to see a sad look cross his face. It squeezed her heart. "I love you," he said softly. The pleading tone in his voice made her loose her breath.

"Oh, baby," she breathed. She leaned forward and cupped his cheek in her hand, a move that surprised him.

He blinked back tears and rushed on before she could say anything else. "I never wanted you to think I stopped loving you, Kath," he said hoarsely. "You are the love of my life. I wish I could have shown you that." Tears spilled out of his eyes before he could stop them. "I love you more than life itself. I just wish you would have told me what I was doing, because I had no idea. "

Moving forward quickly, Kathy wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her. Her own tears fell as she stroked the back of his head. "I still love you with all my heart, Elliot," she whispered tearfully. "I'm so sorry, baby. I never once doubted your love for me. Never once."

A small sob escaped her lips as she pressed her face into his hair. "It's not something that you did. I promise you that, with all my heart. It was me." She sighed tearfully. "I was scared of the woman I had become. I didn't know who I was anymore."

The waitress arrived and quietly set the plates down without speaking, sensing her presence was an intrusion. Elliot gulped and pulled back quickly, turning his head and swiping his eyes rapidly. Kathy swallowed hard and pulled the plates over to them. He picked at the dessert without really tasting it. He had lost his appetite.

"Alright, you guys." Cragen came out of his office. It was a little after two. "Finish your DD-5s and you can go home."

Olivia's head shot up. "Are you kidding?" she asked after a minute. Looking at Munch and Fin, she saw the same look of disbelief on their faces.

The captain looked at them in exasperation. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" he asked. He raised an eyebrow when no one moved. "Would you rather me find more work for you? We don't have any new cases, but there are plenty of files in the archives that need-"

"No, sir," Fin said quickly, standing. "You don't have to do that." He began clearing off his desk. "He doesn't have to do that, right guys?" He looked at them meaningfully.

"No, not at all," Olivia answered quickly, picking up his hint. "Nope, we're good." She stood too.

Fin glared at Munch. "Oh, uh….yeah," he stammered. "Yep. Good."

Cragen rolled his eyes. "Get out of here," he said. "Bright and early tomorrow, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Olivia said, going to her locker.

Kathy unlocked her car and turned back to face Elliot, sighing softly. He shifted weight awkwardly, twirling his keys in his hands nervously.

"So…" she said.

He sucked on his lip. "So…" he repeated.

After a minute, she moved up to him and softly hugged him. He squeezed her and breathed into her hair, closing his eyes.

They had cleared a lot of hurdles today. For the first time since the divorce, Elliot felt better about their relationship. Things would be a lot less awkward the next time they saw each other.

"Have a safe trip," he told her, kissing her cheeks softly. "Give my love to the kids."

She closed her eyes at his kiss. "Always," she said softly. She moved forward and placed a short kiss on his mouth, surprising them both. She paused. "If…if you ever want to see them…you can just come on by."

The surprise in his eyes quickly gave way to a look of delight that made her warm inside. "Really?" he asked gleefully.

She chuckled. "Yes," she answered. She smiled and smoothed his cheek. "Drive safe."

He waited for her to get inside before turning to walk towards his truck.

Starting the truck, he noticed that it was almost three. It would be a little later when he got home than he anticipated, but it was worth it. Turning toward the road, he pulled out and drove toward the town again.

He was about to hit the interstate entrance when his gas light suddenly blinked. He looked at it in surprise to find his tank was below empty.

"Shit," he said, slowing. The town was too far back to drive; he'd never make it. How had he not noticed his empty tank before this?

Slowing to preserve as much gas as he could, he looked around anxiously as he crawled over the dirt road. He approached the fork in the road that would take him to the interstate and turned the opposite direction, hoping to find something that way.

He almost shouted with joy when he saw the tiny gas station several miles ahead. It only had one pump and looked like it hadn't been used since the 40s, but he was desperate.

"Come on, come on," he breathed, willing the Explorer to make it. He sighed in relief when he turned onto the gravel.

A yellowed curtain snaked back slightly from inside the tiny store, a wrinkled hand clutching the fabric. A pair of brown eyes lit up at seeing the truck pull up to the pump.

"Well, look at this," a voice said excitedly. "We finally got one."

A pair of lips curled up into a sinister smile as the eyes watched the man hop out from the driver's side.The eyes lit up in delight and the hand moved back to shove the curtain back before the man could see the movement.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Elliot lifted the ancient-looking nozzle and inserted it into the truck. Stepping back up to the pump, he found that he could barely see anything on it. Everything was covered in dried dirt and dust.

Wiping at the display screen with his hand produced nothing. Rolling his eyes, he pressed the button to start the pump and stepped back down next to the truck.

He filled the tank and returned the nozzle, twisting the gas cap back in place. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making him glance up as he was walking to the attached store. The clouds were promising more rain soon.

A small bell jingled as he pulled open the screen door. Music was playing from somewhere; the repeated scratching noises sounded like a record. The wooden deck creaked as he stepped into the store.

"Hello?" he called, looking around. There was no one in sight.

He began walking slowly through the store, his gaze diverted by the items he saw. There were jars of fruit preserves that were covered in dust sitting on a shelf in the corner. Bags of beef jerky lined another shelf along with cans of corn and green beans.

A rack next to one of the shelves caught his eye, and he saw what looked like strings of brown beads hanging from it. Reaching out, he fingered one curiously and immediately drew his hand back in surprise. The beads were scratchy and rough like burlap.

Blinking in disarray, he continued on to the end of the aisle and saw a freezer case. Coming up to it, he bent down and peered inside.

His face immediately screwed up with horror and he backed away reflexively. Instead of the soft drinks he had been expecting to see, there were platters of animal entrails sitting on the shelves. They weren't even covered; he could tell by the flies that were buzzing around inside.

Letting out a revolted breath, he quickly straightened. Enough dawdling; he seriously needed to get out of this town right now.

"Hello?" he called again, louder this time. He strode up to the front of the store again, looking around. "I-I need to pay for some gas…?"

A scratching sounded again, and this time it seemed closer. Turning his head toward the sound, he began making his way over.

More odd items were on this side as well. There was a large basket of gourds sitting against the wall. A small bucket was next to it, and he jumped as he was walking past it. Scores of worms were writhing around inside. He shuddered involuntarily. A sign on the wall said **LIVE BAIT**.

A slight swishing sound caught his attention and he whipped his head up toward it. There was another screen door leading to a different section of the store. A small sign hanging on the knob said **EMPLOYEES ONLY.**

"Hello?" he said softly, stepping close to the door.

He peered inside, hearing the music loudly once he got close enough. There was no one there. Biting his lip in frustration, he turned to look toward the other side of the store again.

A figure appeared in his side vision and he turned toward it. He gasped loudly and stumbled a step back upon seeing it.

He scoffed angrily, trying to slow his racing heart. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly to the old woman standing by the door.

She stood staring at him with an eerily empty gaze, her eyes completely blue. It had taken only a second for him to realize that she was blind, but he had reacted instinctively upon first seeing her.

The old woman didn't say a word as she cradled a black baby in her arms. Her face was drawn up with an odd smirk. Elliot was surprised when he saw a younger black woman appear next to her.

"Oh," he stammered. "I…I need to-"

His words were ignored as the woman gripped the woman by the arm, gently pulling her away. Her brown eyes bored holes into him, but she didn't speak a word.

Forget about confused now; he was seriously starting to get creeped out. He decided that it wasn't worth the trouble anymore.

Turning back around, he almost plowed right into a large black man standing directly behind him. He gasped again and nearly fell in his haste to back away.

The man was cracking a peanut in his hand. He scooped the nuts into his mouth and chewed loudly as he stared coldly at Elliot.

"Oh-" he said quickly, stepping away from the man. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you…um, I…I need to pay-"

"Fifteen for gas," the man interrupted stonily, his accent telling of a native ancestry. His cold stare never left Elliot's.

Blinking in surprise, Elliot quickly fumbled into his pocket, his fingers shaking slightly. He pulled out a crumpled twenty and hastily shoved it into the man's hand.

"Keep the change," he said quickly, stepping around the man in a hurry. He strode briskly toward the door without looking back.

The man crumpled the money in his hand and cracked another peanut, his gaze following Elliot as he hurried outside.

Olivia unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, dropping her umbrella on the floor. She shivered and immediately went over to the thermostat to turn up the heat, despite it being July.

Stepping out of her wet shoes, she tossed them into her bedroom and walked out into the kitchen. Hanging up her keys, she set her purse on the breakfast bar so that she could get access inside. She pulled out a white paper-covered sandwich and set it down.

Walking to the cabinets, she retrieved a plate and a glass and came back. Setting the plate down, she filled the glass with ice from the freezer door and opened the refrigerator. Moving aside bottles, she pulled out the last can of Pepsi that she had hidden back there and closed the door again.

The ice crackled when she poured the soda into the glass. She slurped down the fizz a little at a time until she had emptied the entire can and tossed it into the garbage.

She hastily unwrapped the sandwich and set it on the plate, her stomach immediately perking up at the sight of the lovely pastrami on a hard roll. It was truly a New York sandwich, one of her favorite things about living in the city. There was a deli on every block and all of them knew how to make a killer pastrami sandwich.

Grinning in anticipation, she took one of the halves into her hands and lifted it to her mouth.

Her lips had just grazed the bread when the phone rang. She groaned loudly and slowly lowered it back to the plate.

"Fucking…" she swore under breath.

She scooted back and hopped out of the chair, walking to the phone base.

It had started pouring while Elliot was in the store. He jogged to his truck and reached for the door handle, anxious to get inside where it was dry and get the hell away from Chesterfield.

His hand snapped back roughly, pain shooting through his fingers.

"Fuck!" he swore painfully, his fingers throbbing.

Disbelief surged through him as he lifted the door handle again. It was locked. He hurried to the rear door and tugged on the handle. It too was locked.

He ran around and tried each of the other doors, ending up back at the driver's side. He smacked the window with his fist.

"_Fuck!_" he shouted angrily, tugging rapidly on the handle.

Peering through the glass, he saw his keys dangling from the ignition. He dropped his head down against the window, groaning in despair and anger. He was soaked to the bone and now he was locked out of his god damned truck.

Cursing, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and opened it. He dialed Kathy's number, hoping she hadn't gotten too far down the interstate yet.

There was nothing from the other end; no dial tone or even crackle of static. Pulling the phone back from his ear, he saw that a message was flashing:

**Battery low**

"God _damn_ it!" he shouted.

This was un-fucking-believable. Why the hell did he have such bad luck all the time? Thunder crackled above him and he flinched, realizing only then just how freezing he was because of being soaked.

Angrily shoving the phone back into his pocket, he turned and ran back toward the store.

Olivia had been counting on having the rest of the night to herself, so it had been an unwelcome surprise when the captain had called and told her she needed to get back down to the station.

The man that Munch and Fin had just arrested who they thought was Andrew Willis turned out to be an imposter. Upon searching for the man's ID among the personal items they had taken off of him during the arrest, they discovered a photo badge revealing that his name was Samuel Slater.

Slater claimed that he was a low-end city maintenance worker and had been approached by the real Andrew Willis about twenty minutes before the police had arrived.

Olivia walked into the captain's office and saw him watching through the two-way mirror. A slight Hispanic man sat at the table, his eyes darting around anxiously as John questioned him. Fin was standing to the side with a menacing look on his face, his arms folded.

"He say, 'Hold ID and I pay you $1000'!" Slater said in rapid nervousness. "I swear, I swear…I no want trouble!"

"Then why did you go along with it?" Fin burst out angrily, striding up to the table. He leaned down on his elbows in the man's personal space. "Someone comes up to me asking me to hold something of his, I want to know what he's up to. Especially if he offers a lot of money!"

His Hispanic accent became more prominent the more nervous he became. "I…I just want to feed family!" he said. "$1000 go a long way… my paychecks don't got a lot to go around...I just want my girls to have good life… "

Cragen scoffed in disgust and flipped the sound off in the middle of the man's ramblings. He shook his head and sighed heavily.

"What the hell is all this about?" Olivia asked. "What happened to the real Andrew Willis?"

"No one seems to have any idea," Don said tiredly. "Apparently he keeps to himself, so nobody even knows who he is at the place where he works." He jerked a thumb toward the window. "And this guy can't seem to remember anything about him-what he was wearing, what he was doing…nothing. Just says that he handed him the ID and took off."

Sighing angrily again, he tapped the glass with his knuckle. Fin looked up and nodded to Munch, who got up. They filed out of the small room, leaving the man alone.

"No one at the place knew that this guy wasn't Andrew Willis?" she continued, eyebrows raised incredulously. "How did you arrest him, then? Wasn't the foreman there or something?"

"The foreman speaks about as much English as this guy does," Munch said dryly, as he and his partner came into the office. "We come in and he just starts shouting at everyone in Spanish. They all started holding up ID cards…what else could we do?"

"Too bad we're not Immigration," Fin muttered. "I'll bet that more than half of those workers are illegal."

Cragen looked at him in exasperation, but didn't comment. "Look, we took the arrest off of the guy's record when we found out who he was," he said in a no-nonsense tone. "It's not like he's missing anything anyways…guy's probably safer here than if he was back out there working for $5 a day."

Olivia was still aiming at John, her arms gesturing in disbelief. "But I still don't see how you can-?"

"That's enough, Olivia!" The captain's bark startled her, making her whip toward him in shock. "We'll go through the legal tangle later and get everything sorted out, alright?" He looked pissed. "All I'm concerned about right now is where the hell Andrew Willis is!"

She sighed and shook her head, but didn't bait him further. Cragen glanced at her warningly before turning to the other two again.

"Do we have his home address?" he asked.

"It's not on file," Fin answered. "But I'm sure we can look it up through DMV."

"Do that," Don said quickly. "Meanwhile… John, I want you and Olivia to go back down to the construction site and talk to the foreman. Make sure you get a look at his credentials."

He looked at them meaningfully. "If this guy is running an illegal shop, we're obligated to let Immigration know about it. But first see if he or anyone else can tell you anything about Willis- friends, where he hangs out…anything you can get."

She looked at John. He raised his eyebrows at her and she nodded.

"Excuse me!" Elliot called as he approached the door. "Could you-"

He stopped mid-sentence as he tugged on the screen door handle. It was locked.

_What?_ He tugged on it again, hard. Nothing. What the fuck was going _on_ around here?

"Look, I need to get inside!" he called, louder this time. He craned his head to see inside. "My keys are locked in my truck and I need to get to a phone."

The rain was effectively soaking him. "Oh, fuck this," he breathed, irritated beyond reason when there was still no response. He was sick of standing here getting wet.

He reached into his wallet and pulled out a credit card. Coming up to the door, he got on one knee and carefully searched for a snag in the screen. After a second, he found one.

Taking the sharp edge of the plastic card, he carefully widened the snag so that the plastic slipped through and began gently dragging it upward. The screen gave instantly. He slit the screen as carefully as he could until he had gone all the way to the where the latch was. Slipping his finger inside, he flipped it up and opened the door.

"Hello?" he called out as he stepped inside. He shut the door quietly. "Listen, I'm sorry about the screen, but I really need to get to a phone. My keys are locked-"

"No phones here."

The unexpected voice made him jump in surprise and choke on the rest of his sentence. Whirling around, he encountered the black man again.

The man stood still, his arms folded across his chest. He eyed Elliot squarely, his gaze narrowed.

"Ex-excuse me?" Elliot said.

The man spoke slowly, his heavy accent dragging through the words. "No phones," he repeated.

Elliot blinked stupidly. "Oh…um, ok," he stammered finally. "Well, could you maybe help me unlock my truck? I really need to get back to Manhattan."

He was startled when the man began walking past him before he finished speaking. "I-hey!" he said in surprise. The man paid him no attention.

The rain was pounding on the tin roof and Elliot glanced up at the sudden loud noise. He sighed in annoyance, altogether sick of this crap. He was leaving now.

"Sir, I'm a police officer," he said, pulling his badge from his pocket. "So if you could give me a hand, I'd really appreciate it."

The black man finally stopped walking but remained with his back turned to Elliot. There was a moment of silence.

"No," the man said finally. He paused a minute. "You will not need to go anywhere."

It took a minute for Elliot to understand the man's sentence through his accent. When it finally registered, he blinked in surprise.

"What?" he said. A note of nervousness laced his voice.

The man turned around slowly. A sinister smile crossed his face that made the hairs on Elliot's neck stand up.

"You will like it here," he said. His voice was lower now, almost a throaty sound. "Everyone likes it here."

A surge of panic shot through Elliot's veins. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to get out of this insane store. His breathing quickened as he took a quick step backwards.

He looked at the man warily. "I don't know what you're doing," he said, continuing to slowly advance back toward the door. "Listen, forget it. I'm just going to go-"

A sudden noise from right behind him startled him, making him whip around fast. A dull thump sounded next to his left ear and echoed like a bull horn.

He stood still in confusion, his breath coming in frantic gasps as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. A slicing pain began to shoot through the side of his head and the shelves around him began fading to white.

His heart seemed to shoot right through his chest as he struggled to keep himself upright, grabbing frantically for a shelf next to him.

The black man watched with a smile as he fell forward onto his knees and hit the ground face-first. He lifted his gaze and smiled.

The hatchet dripped with blood as the other man hoisted it back upright. He met the eyes of the black man and nodded slowly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

"Look," Olivia said, trying her best not to snap at the man behind the desk. "We arrested Samuel Slater this morning because he had another man's identification on him. That man is wanted in connection with a child molestation charge…we will not be holding Mr. Slater in jail."

"I no have the budget for new work," the man snapped. "Slater good worker…need him for heavy lifting. He have strong back."

She sighed and dropped her hands on the desk in frustration. John stepped up quickly.

"Listen, Mr. Rodriguez," he said through clenched teeth. He bit his lip to control his impatience and spoke as calmly as he could. "We are looking for Andrew Willis." He locked eyes with the Hispanic man firmly. "Do you understand what I just said?"

Rodriguez nodded.

Munch raised an eyebrow. "Repeat it back to me."

"You looking for Andrew Willis," the man said slowly, in broken English.

John nodded. "Does Andrew Willis work for you?" he continued slowly. The man looked at him blankly. He raised his eyebrows. "Sir…does he work for you?"

Rodriguez stared at him in confusion. "He work for piping company," he said. "Mr. Manning down the street."

Olivia's eyes lit up quickly as she leapt on the information. "How do you know that?" she asked quickly. The man looked at her. "Mr. Rodriguez, have you seen him at work before?"

He looked hesitantly at John before speaking. "I see Andrew in the morning when he get off bus," he said. "He always go into Mr. Manning trailer where the other workers are."

She looked at John with an anxious expression. He briefly met her gaze before turning back to Rodriguez. They both knew that the information was as good as coincidental.

Munch mustered a reassuring smile for the man who was looking nervous. "Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez," he said. "You've been a big help."

He motioned for Olivia to follow and walked out of the trailer.

"Well that's lovely," she burst out as soon as the door was shut. She raised an eyebrow at John. "We can't prove that Willis is working for a piping company any more than we can prove that Rodriguez has a valid green card."

John cocked in eyebrow in amusement at her choice of analogy and shook his head. "So we'll just have to go talk to the foreman there," he said patiently.

She huffed and began walking faster. He matched her stride and looked at her quizzically. "What's with you, Olivia?" he asked. "Why are you so uptight today?"

She looked at him in exasperation. "Well, excuse me for being a little pissed off, John," she said darkly. "I wasn't planning on coming back to work tonight, and especially not to run around the fucking Spanish Harlem."

"You think I wanted to do this?" he shot back in annoyance. "I have things I need to be doing too, Olivia." He stopped and looked at her. "How long you been working this job? I would think you'd know by now that we don't exactly work 9 to 5."

She stopped as well, his words stinging. Whipping her head toward him to give him her best glare, she suddenly stopped when she saw the look on his face. She sighed. He was right. None of them liked this. What right did she have to be a bitch about it?

She sighed. "Sorry," she said. She offered him a small smile to make amends. "What's our next move?"

John smiled back, knowing exactly what she was feeling. It was the worst part of their job sometimes. "How about finding someone around this place that can speak English?" he asked wryly.

She chuckled as they approached their car.

Elliot hit his knees hard and fell forward onto the floor. He felt hands grab his ankles and start pulling him backwards, leaving a bloody smear from the side of his head.

Panic and raw instinct had him fighting before he was even aware of it. He kicked frantically and twisted his body as hard as he could to loosen the grip. His assailant was obviously caught off-guard because one hand flew from around his left ankle.

Fueled by the new leverage, he twisted even harder and reached behind him. He began clawing at the hands.

"Help me!" the man said quickly.

The black man came around to the other side and grabbed Elliot around the neck, startling him. He whipped his head around quickly. Out of desperation, he reared back and spit square into the man's eyes.

The grip fell away instantly and the man staggered back, swiping at his face.

"Son of a bitch!" Elliot growled, feeling the hand reach for his left ankle again. Enough of this shit.

Whipping around fast, he used the momentum to lift his body up and flew at the second man with both hands, plowing his fists right into his head. The man jerked in surprise.

That was all the hesitation that he needed. Jerking his feet out of the man's grip, he kicked him as hard as he could.

Finally free, he scrambled to his feet. Pain and dizziness rushed to his head the minute he stood, making him light-headed. He quickly gripped the side of the nearest shelf to keep from going back to the floor.

The black man lunged at him. He ducked a split second before the blow connected, and staggered away, desperately running for the door.

The black man was after him in a minute. He flew forward and tackled Elliot around the waist.

With a shout of surprise, he fell forward hard and smacked his face right into a metal shelf. Blood spurted out of his nose instantly.

Moaning with the intense pain, Elliot scrambled to push himself off of the metal. Before he could move again, the black man was yanking him forward. He hit the ground and an instant later was knocked breathless by a heavy weight on his back.

"Hurry up," the black man said urgently, shifting his weight on top of the downed man's back.

His companion quickly came around and lifted Elliot's arms, pulling them into a vice grip. "Alright, I got him."

The weight suddenly disappeared, but he didn't have time to register the relief it brought before he was yanked upright. He stumbled.

The black man was in front of him in a second and gripping his neck as another person held both of his arms tightly. They began dragging him across the store.

"Help me!" he screamed frantically, trying to twist his head around.

The black man reached up and covered his mouth quickly while they continued to race across the store. He stumbled along helplessly, fear rising into his stomach as they approached the door marked **EMPLOYEES ONLY**

"Open it up," the black man hollered, keeping a firm grip on Elliot's mouth.

The door opened and they forced him inside, slamming it shut behind them.

Fin sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. The half-eaten sandwich beside him had lost his interest a half-hour before. He rubbed a hand over his eyes as he waited for the printer to spit out the information from his computer.

"How's it going, Fin?" Cragen asked, coming out into the squad room.

He sighed again. "Got an address and social security number from DMV," he said tiredly, snatching the paper from the printer tray. "But they don't have his driving record, so either he's really smart or really paranoid."

He handed the paper to the captain. Scanning it, he nodded. "Alright, that's good," he said. He glanced at his watch. "Olivia and Munch are on their way back from Harlem," he said. "They weren't able to locate the foreman from the description that Slater's boss gave…I told them to come on back. We'll have to call it a night."

Fin looked at him, somewhat surprised. "There's nothing else we can do?"

Don shrugged helplessly. "What other choice do we have?" he said. "Andrew Willis is still gone, and we're no closer to finding him than we were at…" He glanced at his watch again. "Hell, I don't even know when we started."

He dropped his arm and rubbed his eyes rapidly. "I can't ask you guys to pull an all-nighter on this. I'm afraid we might have to pass it on once we get a new case."

The other two came in at that moment looking worn out and wet. The captain turned toward them.

"It's official," Olivia said wearily, slapping the keys down on her desk. "Andrew Willis has vanished off the face of the earth."

He smiled sympathetically. "Well, you did all you could," he said. "Did you get any headway on where he might have headed?"

John shook his head. "We found two people in a span of twenty miles who could even speak English," he said bitterly. "None of them had even heard of the guy." He sighed angrily. "I think we're being played here, to tell the truth."

Cragen raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment on the statement. "I sprang Slater at eight," he said. Olivia started and glanced at her watch. It was later than she thought. "You guys go home. There's nothing more we can do tonight, and we need to start focusing for new cases. You know we're going to get one sooner or later."

She sighed heavily, all too happy with the idea. She hoped to God that the others didn't try to protest.

Munch nodded silently, too tired to really care at this point. He just wanted to go to sleep right now.

Fin sighed. "Sounds good to me," he said. "Don't know about you guys…but I vote for sleep."

Elliot struggled and jerked wildly, trying to knock them away from him. The grip was surprisingly strong.

He was dragged across the smaller room and turned around. A pair of black hands was holding up a strip of tape.

"Hold him still," a voice said anxiously as the grip on his arms slipped for a minute.

They pushed him forward. The black man's hand removed from his mouth and the tape applied in almost the same second. Whimpering in panic, Elliot fought wildly against the hands holding him from behind.

They shoved him back around and slammed him up face-first into the wall. He felt his arms jerk tight and then someone was tying rope around his hands. He continued to struggle, desperately yelling against the tape on his mouth.

Something slammed into his back and he cried out in pain before slumping against the wall. Hands jerked him around when he went limp and pressed him to the floor.

Exhausted and in pain, Elliot stilled and looked up at the three people standing in front of him. He vaguely recognized the black woman as the one he had seen with the old blind woman, but he didn't recognized the second man.

The black man crossed his arms and stared down at him, scrutinizing him carefully. He nodded to his companions.

"Let's get ready," he said.

Olivia walked into her apartment with a groan and slammed the door shut.

What a shit-hole of a day. Her feet ached from walking around creation for God-knew how many hours and she was so tired that she felt like she could fall asleep standing up.

She walked into the kitchen and checked her messages, glancing at the clock as she did. God, it was already 9:30.

Her pastrami sandwich sat abandoned in its wrapper and she pounced on it quickly, suddenly realizing how starving she was. It disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She put the plate in the sink and turned off the lights. Going over to lock the door, she yawned and toed off her shoes. She carried them with her into the bedroom and prepared to take a shower.

_I wonder how Elliot's day went_, she thought suddenly. She scoffed. Surely it couldn't have been as bad as hers.

_Oh, God…oh, God…_

Elliot wriggled his hands frantically, his moans muffled by the god damn tape that he couldn't get off of his mouth. _Dear Jesus…help me, please help me…_

He stared anxiously at his captors as he continued jerking his hands. The woman had a bowl of liquid on the floor and was crouched next to it, sloshing it around gently. She wasn't his primary concern.

What had his rapt attention was the humongous hatchet that the black man was holding up. The other man was busy rubbing it with a soft cloth. He saw blood on the end of it, making his heart race. _That explains the headache,_ he thought wryly.

The second man dropped the cloth. "How's that look?" he said to the woman.

She glanced up at it and smiled. "Perfect," she replied.

The black man gripped the hatchet and began walking towards Elliot. His breathing became rapid and sporadic as he froze in panic, unable to get any conscious thoughts together.

He could only watch as the man began rolling up the leg of his jeans. He went up to his knee and stopped, smoothing his hand over the skin. The dead set look on the man's face told exactly what he was planning to do.

Elliot screamed out wildly when the hatchet came up. He squeezed his eyes shut frantically.

"Wait," the woman said suddenly.

He heard softer footsteps walking towards him, but all he could think to do was brace himself for the hatchet. After a minute, he ventured to open his eyes, surprised to feel tears running down his cheeks.

The black woman crouched in front of him. He stiffened.

After a minute, a somewhat soft look crossed her face. She reached forward and gently peeled the tape off of his mouth, leaving it hanging off the side of his face.

He looked at her, wide-eyed and desperate.

"Please," he begged tearfully. He found that he couldn't get any other words out past the huge lump in his throat. The tears began coming out faster. "Please."

She stared at him for a minute. Finally, she said, "Not yet."

The black man growled. "Let me do it," he said anxiously. "Please….I been waiting for such-"

The woman spun to face him, her face hard as stone. "Not…yet," she repeated forcefully.

The man scowled, but backed away reluctantly. She turned back to the man by the wall. He had started to shake now, his blue eyes terrified and alert at the same time.

Narrowing her gaze, she reached out and draped the tape back over his mouth again, pressing it down firmly.

She stood up and walked out of the room.

Don stretched out on his bed, sighing heavily. Despite what they may think, he really hated having to call his squad in on their off-time.

He didn't know what it was about this Willis guy that had the D.A. so uptight, but he was just going to have to get over it. His squad had more urgent matters to deal with besides one man who had gone AWOL. He was sure that he would get an earful in the morning when he told Arthur Branch that, but frankly, he didn't care.

He glanced at the clock as he rolled over and sighed. Nine hours before he was back at work again.

Loud, muffled breathing echoed around the small room. For the moment, Elliot was alone, and he was struggling with all he had to loosen the ropes around his hands.

His mind was racing in extreme panic. He was still trying to comprehend what the hell was going on. Who were these people? What did they want with him?

A surge of pain from his palms made him hiss. The spot was probably rubbed raw by now. It hurt so much that he decided for the moment to stop trying. Instead, he concentrated on trying to stand up. If he could get to his feet, he would have a chance to run.

He dimly wondered what time it was. There were no windows in the room, but he knew it was still raining because he could hear it pounding on the roof.

In the movies, every time someone got into trouble there was always someone at home that would become worried when the person didn't show up after a while. He lived alone, knew no one at his apartment complex, and had told everyone at work not to expect him until the next morning.

The responsibility of getting out of here rested solely on him. He had no clue what these people were planning to do, but what he had already seen was enough for him to know that he didn't want to stick around to find out. He barely remembered a time when he had felt such extreme terror like that…he honestly thought that they were going to hack his leg off.

On the heels of that thought was anger. Who the hell did these people think they were, tying him up and stuffing him into a dingy store room? When he _did_ get out of here, there was going to be hell to pay.

Scooting back until he hit the wall, Elliot took a deep breath and began trying to lift himself up. Muffled grunts were heard as he struggled. It was harder than he thought without his hands to brace himself.

He continued to struggle until his muscles began to scream. Letting out a tired moan involuntarily, he felt himself sliding back to the floor.

After resting for a minute, he took another deep breath and tried again. _Come on…come on, _he thought in frustration. He could get himself up onto his knees, but was having trouble getting up any further.

The sound of the screen door opening made him freeze and sink quickly back to the floor. He glared angrily at the two men when they came back into the room. They'd had the upper hand once by scaring him with the hatchet…there was no way in hell he'd give them that again. Like it or not, he was going to have to suck up the terror he was currently feeling, otherwise he wouldn't stand a chance at escaping.

One of the black men crossed to the other side of the room and began rooting around in the large chest that was sitting against the opposite wall. The other man came over to Elliot.

His eyes rolled up to stare at the man as he stood over him, glaring daggers into him. The tape forced him to breathe loudly through his nose, and the sound was amplified with the size of the small room.

He was unprepared for the black man's move when he suddenly knelt down in front of him. His heart began thudding in his ears when the man reached out with both hands, hovering them over his face. Elliot sucked in a breath, the sound coming out as a small whimper. His heart was beating so hard now that he was sure they could hear it. The hands began turning his head slightly, left and right, and then traveled down to lift up his chin.

Elliot jerked away angrily, immediately regretting the move. The black man's face got dangerously angry. He lunged forward, grabbing his hair and slamming his head hard back against the wall.

His eyes widened in surprise and pain, and he whimpered again when the man got inches from his face. The brown eyes were sparkling with anger.

"Bad idea," he hissed, his breath hot and stale against Elliot's face.

Elliot was frozen in terror and could only stare at him. After glaring at him for a minute, the black man released him and backed up a little.

Swallowing hard, Elliot scooted away from the wall a little ways, feeling himself trembling slightly. His plan to not act afraid was starting to backfire. He could feel tears building in his eyes and willed them not to fall.

_Please God…please get me out of here…_

Munch flipped on the lights as he stepped inside his spacious brownstone in the lower east side and shut the door behind him. He stamped his shoes against the tile by the front door and shook the rain out of his hair, sliding his jacket off.

His black and white tiger cat, Mouse, walked into the living room as he was hanging up the jacket. He meowed loudly upon seeing John.

"Hey, buddy," he said, glancing at the cat. The cat meowed again impatiently. "I know, I know…I'll feed you in a minute. Is it my fault that the stupid pedophiles don't know when your dinner time is?"

Mouse had been an unplanned addition to his home about three years ago. John was never an animal lover and had no desire to have a pet, since he worked such crazy hours and would never be home anyway.

Then one morning, he walked outside to get the paper and found a cat lounging underneath his car. It was still there when he left for work, and he had tried everything to get the dumb thing to move, but it hadn't budged. So finally, he had gotten inside the car and started it, and as expected, the cat shot out from underneath and took off like a shot.

He was satisfied with himself for solving the problem, and had gone to work like normal. But then the next morning, he had found the cat lying underneath the car again like before. He had done the same thing, starting the car while it was still there, and it had taken off again.

The third morning when he walked out, the cat had moved from under his car and was now lounging sprawled across his paper in the driveway. John had glared at it suspiciously, seeing that it was the same cat.

He had attempted to push the cat gently off of the paper and had no success. The damn thing must have weighed ten pounds, and was perfectly content to dig its claws into the newspaper and not budge.

Thinking that there was no way he was going to be outsmarted by a cat, John decided to one-up the animal and proceeded to lift up the paper with the cat still on top. But instead of darting away at once like he'd hoped, the cat stretched out even more and appeared perfectly content.

Munch had given up and carried the damn thing into the house. It was like the cat had been planning it all along, because it jumped off of the paper the minute he was inside and scurried down the hall. John had chased it only to have the cat jump on top of the closet shelf away from his reach.

He was late for work as it was, and decided to just leave the damn cat in his closet, shutting the door to make sure it didn't escape. But guilt crept up as he was leaving and he ended up going back and climbing up to lift it down.

He had taken it outside and tried to put it down, but the cat began clawing at him and meowing loudly, refusing to go on the ground. John had ended up dropping him when the stupid cat scratched him, and he scurried like a shot back into the house. He was too pissed to go after him again, so he had locked the door and just gone to work.

He told his coworkers about the incident when he got there and asked if anyone wanted a cat. Elliot had declined immediately, saying that the only thing a cat was good for was to be made into stew. Olivia was allergic, and Fin didn't want the thing. The captain told him not to even ask because he had enough cats already taking over his house.

So he had gotten home that night and had to hunt for the damned cat, finally finding it asleep curled up in his bathroom sink. It had looked up at him when he turned on the bathroom light, and John was horrified to find himself starting to melt when he saw its big green eyes staring at him. It had meowed pathetically and Munch knew it was hopeless.

Mouse now thought that he was king of the house. He strutted around with his tail flicking and refused to go outside for any reason. Munch nicknamed him "Gay Boy" because of the way he pranced around the house, but there was no way he could part with him. The damn thing had squirreled into his life permanently.

The meowing got more insistent.

Alright, alright," John roused, shaking his head as Mouse began weaving in and out between his legs.

He walked into the kitchen with the cat following and rummaged under the sink for a can of cat food. Mouse meowed loudly as he opened it. He barely had it dumped into the bowl before the cat was attacking it.

Rolling his eyes, he threw the can away and opened the refrigerator, more out of habit than actual hunger. Closing it, he looked at the clock. It was 10:00. He was tired, but not sleepy, so he went to put his pajamas on and lounge on the couch for a while.

The black man walked over to Elliot and crouched before him again. He immediately cowered away, but the man reached forward and gripped him by the neck, pulling him forward. He was lifted to his feet and dragged across the room to the other man.

Jerking him roughly to a stop, the man gripped his shoulders tightly to prevent Elliot from struggling. The other man had something in his hand, and as he walked closer, Elliot saw that it was a felt-tipped pen.

The man began tracing a line from his left ear. He went all the way across his face, under his mouth, and around to the other ear. Then he capped the pen and turned away again.

Elliot's mouth went dry when the man picked up the hatchet. He walked over to him and stared directly into his eyes without speaking.

The blue eyes were wide as he watched the man press the hatchet into his neck. He gulped, feeling like he was going to pass out. A short, fiery burn assaulted his neck after a minute and he hissed.

The man brought the hatchet back up, satisfied at the sharpness, and Elliot saw the tiny drop of blood on the end. His chest was trembling full-force against his will now as the man reached around and gripped the back of his head.

"Ready?" the man asked in a low voice.

Elliot saw the other man lift up a bucket with one hand while firmly holding his shoulder with the other. He nodded.

His eyes bugged out when he felt the man place the hatchet against his left ear. The man smiled lightly.

The white-hot pain of the hatchet being dragged across his flesh made Elliot yell, and panic had him reacting before he could think about it.

Diving forward, Elliot slammed his head into the man's face as hard as he could, driving his weight into him desperately. Anything to get the man to drop the hatchet. The man yelped and staggered away, hitting the wall in surprise.

The other man yanked his shoulders hard and he stumbled back, his bound hands nearly making him lose his balance. Twisting slightly, he pulled his shoulder from the man's grip and ducked quickly, effectively throwing the man off-balance.

The black man flew forward and Elliot ducked around him as he was falling. His adrenaline was pumping as he immediately sprinted for the screen door.

He burst through it and plowed right into the black woman who had heard the commotion and was coming to investigate. She cried out and fell backwards, hitting a shelf.

Elliot lost his balance as well and almost went down with her. He leapt as far as he could to keep himself upright and kept right on running. His breath was shallow and fast as he ran frantically for the door.

He burst through the screen door and out onto the deck, gasping. Panic and terror seized him as he jumped off of the porch and into the pouring rain. It was pitch black outside.

Movement from inside made him whip his head toward the door again. Terrified that they would be coming after him, he took off across the gravel.

His hands were still tied and the tape still over his mouth as he hit the asphalt road and began running for his life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

He began looking around wildly. Where was he going to go? There was nothing but fields and darkness as far as he could see. His chest heaved with the exertion, but he kept running as fast as he could, repeatedly whipping his head around to see if he was being followed.

He ran awkwardly, hampered by his hands tied tightly behind him, and was forced to slow to avoid falling. If he fell, he didn't know if he would be able to get back up. His lungs began to ache with a searing burn and he had to slow to a walk.

His head whipped around quickly once more. Seeing nothing, he continued down the dark road, sticking to the middle for fear of slipping into a ditch or something of the sort. The night was completely black and the rain wasn't helping matters.

The main concern was getting as far away as he possibly could before those psychos realized where he was.

The black man stood on the porch and scanned the horizon with the night-vision goggles.

"He can only get so far," the woman said, coming out of the store, followed by the other man. She stood next to the black man as he continued looking out into the rain. "Road only goes to one place…he'll end up at the house sooner or later."

The black man scowled angrily and put down the goggles. The other man picked up a hunting rifle from just inside the door and walked over to the edge of the porch. He smirked.

"Give him a head start," he said, aiming into the night.

The sound of a shot cracking through the air made Elliot's heart skip a beat. He stumbled instinctively and lost his balance. Gravity overtook him before he could struggle to right himself and he pitched forward, landing hard on the pavement.

Another shot echoed in the air right after the first and he jumped violently, straining to get to his knees. He was unsuccessful.

Yet another shot sounded, making him whimper in terror. He had no idea where the shots were coming from, but lying bound in the middle of the road made him a sitting duck.

He strained hard and rolled over onto his back, the effort driving the wind from him. Ignoring the pain it caused his hands, he struggled to keep going, rolling slowly toward the side of the road.

He had to stop several times to rest, the effort agonizing. Breathing loudly through his nose, he forced himself to keep going. The darkness made it impossible to see anything, so he just continued rolling as fast as he could manage, his head banging the asphalt with each turn he made.

A sudden, sharp drop made him gasp, but he could do nothing about it. Snapping and loud pops echoed and Elliot landed face-down in a huge pile of twigs and sticks. The sharp edges scraped and gouged his face, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut to protect them.

Breathing hard in fear and exhaustion, he lay still. His chest heaved with each gasp of breath he took, making the brush he was lying in move with him. After a minute, he opened his eyes gingerly, immediately getting poked with pieces of pine straw and bits of bark.

He winced, blinking rapidly to dislodge the pieces of wood that had gotten into his eyes, and turned his head to the side. His entire body ached with a vengeance now, and his head was throbbing steadily.

Another crack from the rifle. He jumped instantly, muscles tight with anticipation, and froze. Staying as still as he could, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed.

"Come on," the black man said, turning toward the other man. "She's right, Jed…he won't get far."

The man remained where he was, glaring out into darkness. "God damned bastard," he hissed, one hand coming up to gingerly feel his nose. "He almost broke my nose, damn it!"

The woman looked at him sympathetically, coming over to him. She gently squeezed his arm. "They always struggle, darlin'," she said soothingly, rubbing up and down. "You know that."

He scowled at her for a minute. Finally, he shook his head in defeat. "Yeah, I know," he said sullenly. "But it still don't make it hurt any less."

"Go help him with the flashlights," she continued to sooth. "I'll get you an ice pack."

Pouting, he nodded. He leaned down to kiss the black woman on the cheek. "Thanks, Mable," he said.

She smiled. The sound of a baby crying inside made her turn back toward the door. "Let me go take care of her," she said, opening the door. "You hurry up now; you know he don't like to wait."

The man nodded, stepping off of the porch. He paused as he was heading toward the back and turned to face the horizon again.

"Better get as far as you can, Officer!" he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry the sound further. "Sooner or later, we're going to catch up!" He fired another round into the air just for good measure. "You can make bet on it!"

He laughed maniacally and began to run around the side of the store.

The words echoed in the air around him. Shivering, Elliot dropped his head down into the dirt and closed his eyes. Sobs of terror and despair began to shake his frame.

Olivia began twitching in her sleep, her head tossing in agitation. Her hands clenched the sides of the bed as she muttered listlessly.

Her features were screwed up in agony as she continued to tremble and twitch.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes and lay still. Her breathing was harsh and shallow. She raised a shaking hand to wipe the sweat and tears from her face, looking around the bedroom.

The screams in her dream kept echoing in her head. She shook with the memory. No faces, just blackness…and screaming. Blood-curdling, hair-raising screams from something that she couldn't see.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but after a while he had to force himself to lift his face. This wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Taking a breath, he choked on the rest of the sobs that were trying to escape and struggled to roll over. He wasn't going to die this way…god damn it, he _wasn't_going to die in a pile of fucking brush because of some fucking psychos from this shit hole town.

Anger giving him new determination, Elliot strained with every ounce of strength he had. _Come on, Stabler…you can bench more than you weigh…lift, dammit!_ With a growl, he pushed hard and was overjoyed to feel himself turning over. He hit his back and lay still, breathing hard in relief.

Struggling to push forward, he used his bound hands to his advantage and shoved hard on the ground. His body flew upward and immediately began falling back down again. Groaning, he strained to keep himself upright. A sigh of relief whooshed from his nose when was able to fight gravity and land sitting up.

Breathing hard in exhaustion, he kept going. Straining with his legs, he shakily raised himself until he was standing.

_I did it_. The realization caught him off guard and he stood still, breathing hard. He was shaking with the effort. _I did it! _

He began running through the brush, away from the road.

The 11:00 news was ending and Fin reached for the remote to see what else was on. A sudden tightening in his chest made him gasp in surprise. He froze, heart pounding. He suddenly couldn't draw a breath.

The feeling passed as soon as it came. He stayed still for a minute, eyes wide, until his heart beat normally again.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What the hell was that?

When the feeling didn't return, he shrugged and relaxed against the couch cushions again.

The flashlight beams were strong, giving them the ability to see well in front of them. The black man patiently shone the light back and forth over both sides of the brush as he carefully trudged through.

Jed was on the road, sweeping from side to side. They both knew that the man couldn't get very far being tied up and having no lights. They would catch up soon.

They always did.

His feet flew across unfamiliar terrain as fast as they could go. He stumbled a few times and fought to keep his balance. His heart was pounding so fast that he thought he was having a heart attack.

Fear made his chest tight as he continued on. He kept trying to loosen the tape with his lips and tongue, frustrated when he had no success after several attempts.

There were no trees around for him to stop and rest against; no branches to try and loosen the ropes on his hands with. He was still completely helpless. All he could do was run.

Several minutes later, his chest ached so bad that he had to stop. He was breathing so hard that he was almost wheezing. It was so bad that he had to keep taking small steps forward to keep himself from tumbling over.

The sound of a twig snapping echoed in the stillness, making him gasp loudly out of reflex. He quickly froze and held his breath, praying that it hadn't been heard.

His eyes darted around anxiously, his heart hammering again. When another twig snapped, he knew that it was no coincidence. Fear had him running blindly again as fast as he could.

The sound of feet scurrying across the brush caught the attention of both men. Their heads both whipped around at the same instant, flashlight beams immediately aiming toward the sound. Rapid gasps met their ears.

The black man's lips spread into a smile. The other man's eyes lit up with excitement as they locked gazes.

"I told ya!" he shouted into the air. "We're going to get you, boy! There's nowhere to run!" He let out a rebel yell, shouting gleefully. "**Nowhere to run**!"

The two immediately began giving chase.

_Oh, Jesus…oh, Jesus!_

Beams of light shone around his feet and his stomach dropped. The sound of the men yelling near him made his heart jump.

He ran desperately through the darkness, praying that he could keep his footing. The men were chasing him now. He could hear their feet stomping weeds and sticks as he kept running blindly, terrified to look back for fear of losing time.

He had to keep ahead of them. If he could just make it back to the road, he would be able to out run them.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" the black man shouted behind him. His companion ran as hard as he could, but was still a few steps behind.

The flashlight beams bobbed in the darkness as they ran, making sure to keep the man in sight ahead of them. He was running awkwardly and they could hear his frightened breaths.

The fool…he actually thought he could out run them out here.

The black man abruptly skidding around, almost making the other man plow into him.

"What-?" he gasped anxiously.

"Go around," he said quickly, meeting the man's eyes. At the confused look, he hurried on, "Jed…**go around**! Hurry!"

The man took off to the side and disappeared from sight. The black man continued on his path.

He panted hard, his calves burning. _Got to keep ahead of them…got to keep ahead of them…_

Risking a glance behind him, he didn't see the flashlight beams anywhere, but it brought him no comfort.

_Got to keep ahead of them…got to keep ahead of them…_

When he turned his head back again, he saw one of the men standing right in his path.

Gasping, he tried to stop himself but was going too fast. With a muffled cry, Elliot crashed right into him and went to the ground.

Before he knew what was happening, both men were swarming him. He hadn't even seen the other one.

They kicked him several times. Jed took his flashlight and slammed it into his face, making him scream out in pain, and then immediately began kicking him again.

Don startled out of sleep and looked around. Was that the phone? He waited a minute and heard nothing.

He rolled over again and fell back asleep.

John set his mug of hot tea in the sink and flipped off the lights, padding through the kitchen. It was just after midnight. He had always been a bit of an insomniac and tonight was obviously going to be no exception.

Mouse scampered after him, pausing at his dish to see if there was any treats there. Finding none, he ran toward the bedroom.

Munch brushed his teeth and turned the covers down, slipping off his robe. He sat down on the end of the bed and set his alarm for the next morning.

Glancing over by the door, he saw Mouse looking at him. He raised an eyebrow at the animal.

"Come on," he said, eyeing the cat. He patted the pillow next to his.

Mouse jumped up and curled up into the pillow, purring. John turned off the lights and settled under the covers. He slipped his glasses off and set them on the nightstand.

Elliot lay sideways on the backseat of the old Jeep, silently sobbing into the upholstery. The younger of the two men was busy tossing out jeers at him from the front while the black man drove silently.

The beating had left him in pain and so disoriented that they'd had no trouble carrying him out onto the road. Sprawled over the black man's shoulder like a sack of wheat, he had dimly seen what looked like a vehicle of some kind as they approached it.

They had tied his hands and feet together and the black man had put a stronger layer of tape over the one on his mouth before tossing him into the back like a broken rag doll.

The roar of the engine starting sent his heart shattering and he broke down in despair as the Jeep carried him away from all hope of getting home.

He couldn't see where they were going with his face smashed against the seat, but after a while he felt the Jeep stop. The engine died and doors opened.

Rough hands grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him forward, making him start in surprise. He was dragged out of the vehicle and pitched onto the ground before he even knew what was happening.

Moaning, he squinted and peered blearily up at the men as they stood above him. The rain echoed loudly against the side of the Jeep and he shivered involuntarily, feeling the wetness seeping into his skin.

The black man had the hatchet in his hand. He swung it back and forth over his captive's face, watching the man's blue eyes as they shone with fear and despair.

"You'll like it here," he said, grinning. His eyes were bright with anticipation. "Everyone likes it here."

The sound of the other man's wild laughter registered in Elliot's ears before an explosion of pain like he had never experienced before assaulted his senses, followed by a loud cracking sound. He felt warm wetness spreading slowly into his eyes as everything faded to black.

The black man slammed the hatchet into the man's face with a grunt, the instrument making a dull thumping sound as it connected with the flesh. Sickening cracks echoed and he grinned again before lifting the hatchet back up.

Blood dripped onto the pavement and was immediately washed away by the rain. He stared down at the unconscious man, his blood already oozing steadily onto the asphalt.

He stared solemnly down at the limp form for another minute and turned to the other man.

"Go get the others," he said.

The man nodded and turned away, jogging down the path. The black man turned back and picked the man up again. His head hung limply down toward the ground as the black man started behind his companion.

Jed hopped up the porch of the sprawling Victorian home and through the door.

"Jed? That you?" came a voice from somewhere inside.

"Yes, Momma," he answered, stamping his feet on the rug by the door.

"It still raining?" she asked, coming in from a back bedroom.

He nodded. "Coming down in buckets out there," he said. He walked down the hall. "What did you make for supper?"

"There's roast beef on the table," she said. She turned to follow her son. "Any luck tonight?"

His eyes lit up as he was scarfing down the meat. "Yep," he said, grinning.

Her eyes widened in delight. "Really?"

He nodded, swallowing. "Got ourselves a real nice one this time," he said. "Real big and sturdy as a horse….he actually stopped for gas this afternoon. Can you believe that?" He grinned again as he stuffed more food into his mouth.

"Lord, Jed," she said, disgusted. "Get a plate, for crying out loud." She shook her head as he reached up for the cabinet. She looked at him thoughtfully. "Been a while since we've seen anyone stop…looks like the Lord done answered our prayers tonight."

"Millie!" came a shout from the front. "Can you come give me a hand?"

The woman scurried down the hall quickly. She gasped as she held the door, seeing the man he was carrying. "Lord, he wasn't kidding!" she said. "That one's going to be a welcome sight, ain't he?"

The black man grinned as he moved past her into the living room. "You ain't kidding, sweetheart," he said, setting his burden down on the floor. He turned toward her and smiled hugely. "You ain't kidding."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

**Author's Note: Happy Independence Day! God Bless America and have some homemade potato salad for me since I have to go to work today.**

A strangled moan elicited from the figure sprawled limply against the side of the couch, catching the black man's attention. Turning away from the television, he glanced over across the room.

He had been out for over an hour now, but he looked to be coming around. Setting down the remote, the black man climbed from the rocking chair and walked over.

"What are you doin'?" Jed said crossly from his spot on the carpet. He was sprawled in front of the TV comfortably. The black man ignored him and he rolled his eyes.

The young black woman bounced her baby on her knees and looked over as well. She cooed to the child with a smile when the baby gurgled, blowing a raspberry on her stomach. She glanced over again.

Elliot's eyes began fluttering. The black man bent down and reached behind him, pushing him forward a little ways so he could untie the knot binding his hands and feet together. He slipped his feet free and gently folded his legs out in front of his body before going back and tightening the rope around his hands.

The black man waited while Elliot slowly came back to consciousness. He groaned immediately, stiff and sore, and he watched him try to stretch. The blue eyes immediately flew wide when he realized that he couldn't breathe or move and he began thrashing wildly.

Hands reached out to hold him still and he fought them even more, terrified whimpers coming from his mouth.

_Where am I…what's happening? Someone help! Please!_

The words weren't coming out. Why weren't they coming out?

The black man continued to wait patiently while the man's panicked spasm played itself out. He leaned forward and spoke deeply.

"Stop fighting. You'll only hurt yourself...stop fighting."

He jumped at the unfamiliar voice, his panic rising again. Ignoring the advice, he squirmed and kicked as hard as he could. Rolling his eyes, the man held him firmly against the couch with a strong grip and continued to wait.

Rapid gasps and whimpers began coming out when Elliot realized that he couldn't get free. He soon grew too tired to keep it up, and finally stilled, breathing hard.

The man relaxed his grip once his captive stopped moving and stared down into his face. He was trembling as he looked up at him.

Tears filled his eyes as Elliot remembered all that was happening. He stared up at the black man who was silent, feeling the tape pressing hard against his mouth.

It hadn't been a nightmare. He wasn't home in his bed…this was actually happening.

The sound of choked whimpering began filling the room as the bound man began crying pathetically. He gasped and shook with the force of each sob that racked his body, his arms quivering with his fear.

"Alright, alright." An angry female voice invaded the room then. "Back up, Todd…give him some space, why don't you?"

The black man scowled, but did as he was told. The older woman fixed him with an angry glare as she set the iron down and walked over to where they were.

"Why don't you get him a room?" Jed said sarcastically.

Her head whipped around with lightening speed. "You shut your mouth, Jedson," she said threateningly. "I'll tan your hide, young man."

Jed smirked, turning back to the television program with disinterest.

"Is he still bleeding?" the younger black woman asked in concern from her spot on the loveseat. She set the baby gently down on a blanket.

"I said **move**, Todd," the older woman snapped, shoving the black man's arm. He scoffed and stood up, walking back to his rocking chair.

The old white woman leaned down in front of him, her brown eyes soft and sympathetic. She made a disappointed clucking noise with her tongue as she looked the man over. The poor thing was terrified. He was shaking so badly that he was almost coming off the floor.

"Go get him a glass of water," she snapped to Jed.

He looked at her incredulously. "Huh?" he said. "Are you kiddin' me?"

She fixed him with a hard stare and growled, "Jedson William…**go**, young man!"

Scoffing, Jed rose slowly from his position and trudged into the kitchen, grumbling under his breath.

Turning back to the man in front of her, Millie reached out and fingered the tape on his mouth. "That must be very uncomfortable," she said, her voice kind and soothing. She looked at him. "Would you like me to take it off?"

He gasped loudly in the middle of a sob, looking at her in disbelief and fear. She looked at him squarely. "Now, I can only take it off if you promise not to scream," she said. "Will you promise?"

Her voice was so kind and soothing. He sobbed brokenly, gulping, and nodded hesitantly.

She gently poked her fingers under the tape and began slowly peeling it away. The man's tears fell onto her hands.

After a minute, she loosened it and slid it off of his mouth. She smoothed her hands over his lips gently. "There you go," she said sympathetically, looking at him kindly. His eyes were such an awesome blue…she had never seen anything like them before.

His face was crumpled and splotchy, his nose red and eyes puffy. Tears continued to stream down his face as he sobbed without being able to help it. "Please," he begged. "Let me go…please let me go." He sobbed again. "Please…I want to go home."

Jed appeared with the glass and handed it to her. She brought it up to his mouth. "Drink some water," she soothed. "Here."

She brought the glass up to his lips, prodding them apart. He sobbed into the water as she gently forced him to drink.

"There you go," she soothed. "That's it."

He swallowed the water greedily, his throat as dry as a bone. He sniffled and gulped, his sobs easing a fraction.

She tilted the glass all the way up so that he could drain the last drops and smiled. "That's better, huh?" she said gently. She set the glass aside as he licked his lips, swallowing.

His face immediately twisted desperately again. "I want to go home," he sobbed. "Please, I promise I won't say anything to anyone…please, I just want to go home."

He couldn't believe his own ears. He was begging. Elliot Stabler, the man who made his living intimidating criminals, was reduced to begging.

Her face suddenly hardened as she firmly pressed her hands against his mouth, silencing his cries. "Hush," she said in irritation. He stilled, and she took her hands away.

"HELP ME!" he screamed. "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!"

The black man came over again and Jed got up as well. They yanked him to his feet and the black man began putting him over his shoulder again. He carried him out of the room, screaming and fighting all the way.

"Bastards!" he screamed, thrashing wildly. "You're going to rot in hell! Mother fucking bastards!"

They ignored him, continuing down the hallway. Jed opened a door. The black man hurled him into the dark room hard, stepping back and swinging the door shut. Jed snapped the padlock in place.

Elliot cried out as he flew hard down a set of stairs, yelping when he slammed into a wall and continued tumbling backwards.

He hit stone floor and backed up quickly, breathing hard. Pain suddenly shot through his right hand when he pressed his weight against it, and he dimly realized that his wrist was most likely broken.

A small light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim glow over the room. Elliot scooted back against the nearest wall, bracing himself on it so that he could stand. He looked around. It appeared to be a basement.

He took a couple of deep breaths with his eyes closed, forcing himself to get control. He had to calm down or else he would never be able to think clearly. Getting out of here depended on him.

Slowly opening his eyes, he looked around once more. First and foremost, he had to untie his hands somehow.

His trained eye began scanning the room for any kind of object that might work. He slowly began making his way around.

A workbench on the other side made his eyes light up. Workbench….tools. There had to be some kind of tool he could use.

Hurrying over, he scanned the flat countertop. The only thing on it was a large radio that looked to be in the middle of being repaired. Biting his lip in thought, he stooped down and looked underneath.

A tool box sat to the left side, with four drawers that looked to slide out. Sticking his foot in the lowest one, he slid it out toward him and examined the inside.

Nails and thumbtacks. Too small; he would never be able to hold those things behind his back long enough to work through rope. He lifted his foot higher and tried the next drawer. Nuts and bolts.

The next drawer was too high for his foot to reach. Stooping, he brought his knee up and tried to wedge it into the drawer. It took three tries before he was able to slide it out.

He examined the mess of miscellaneous scrap pieces, his heart racing when he spotted a piece of metal with a jagged edge. He lowered himself down and turned around, awkwardly grabbing inside with his bound hands and trying to turn his head enough to see what he was doing.

He finally closed his fingers around it and carefully lifted it out, praying that he wouldn't drop it. Backing away from the workbench, he tightened his grip on the metal and began trying to position it so that he could work it under the ropes.

A slicing pain in his left hand made him hiss as he inadvertently jammed the instrument into his flesh. He kept going, wriggling his hands around as much as he could until he was able to grab the end with his right hand and hold it.

Grunting with the effort, he felt around behind him, blindly probing for the ropes. Another sharp pain and he gasped out loud, slicing his own hand again.

He ended up slicing himself four more times before he finally maneuvered the sharp edge under the rope on his left hand and began painstakingly sawing. He realized too late that each sawing motion that he completed sent the instrument straight down into his knuckles, tearing them open.

Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to ignore it and kept going. Sweat broke out onto his forehead from desperation and anxiousness as he strained, grunting in pain.

After what seemed like an eternity, he was able to wriggle the ropes apart. He pulled hard and his hands flew around to the front of his body.

He dropped the metal, his chest heaving with exhaustion, and brought his hands up to his face. He winced at the sight of them. Both wrists were purple and puffy, his palms and knuckles cut and bleeding. The rope still remained wrapped tightly around his wrists, but he didn't care. He was finally able to move.

The first thing he did was reach up to inspect his face. He remembered being slammed in the face with one of the flashlights, but hadn't really felt that much pain until he had woken up inside the house. He guessed that they had hit him with something to knock him out.

His fingers gingerly felt his nose first. It was swollen and caked with dried blood. Continuing down, he felt around his mouth and was horrified when he encountered a tooth hanging loosely. Pain shot through him when he touched it and he pulled his hand back, finding blood all over it.

Wincing, he moved up to his head. Judging by the headache that was pounding his temples, it was a pretty safe bet that he had been hit by something hard. Gently fingering through his hair, he brushed over a huge knot and yelped immediately as fire cascaded through his head.

Coming to the side of his head, he encountered another painful lump. His forehead had a large gash that was still bleeding lightly, and he fingered a cut by his left eye.

Blowing through his cheeks, he walked around to the other side, praying to find a window of some sort.

He stepped around a pile of cardboard boxes and suddenly stopped dead. The sight in front of him froze him in his tracks His eyes widened in horror but he couldn't speak.

The rain continued to pound over Manhattan. Olivia startled awake at the sound of it slapping against the fire escape and glanced toward the window. She could see it pounding against her window.

It hadn't stopped all day. Lord, it was like a monsoon or something. Blearily looking at the clock, she saw that it was now 1:30.

She snuggled back into her pillow and fell asleep again.

He stood frozen, unable to look away from the horrible sight.

A girl was lying on the cement floor. Her brown hair was splayed across the floor, caked with dust and dirt. Her face was covered in it as well.

Her arms and legs were stretched across the ground in spread-eagle fashion. Large metal spikes were driven through each of her hands in the center of her palms, fastening her to the floor. Another was shoved through her ribcage, blood soaking her shirt all the way down to the tops of her jeans.

He shook involuntarily, feeling like he was going to puke. The girl attempted to lift her head. Blood smeared her mouth and oozed from her lips.

The blood rushed from his face and he felt his knees give. He stumbled to the floor before he could brace himself.

Struggling to get back up, he hurried over to her. He looked her over in horror, his hands shaking.

She whimpered as he came closer. He still couldn't speak. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at the large metal spike holding her to the center of the floor. He could see pieces of her ribs sticking clean out through her shirt.

When she began to cry softly, he shook himself quickly. Coming around beside her head, he got down beside her. Her green eyes were terrified as she stared into his blue ones.

"Please," she croaked. "Don't hurt me…don't hurt me."

His instincts took over as he gently pressed both hands to the side of her face, stroking her hair to comfort her.

"I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart," he said weakly. "I promise…I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

She stared up at him wide-eyed, but felt herself instinctively beginning to relax at his gentle touch. She didn't know why. Maybe it was the fear that she saw in his eyes, or the way his hands shook on her face…whatever it was, she somehow knew that he wasn't a threat.

It was then that she got a good look at the man. She noticed for the first time that his face was a bloody mess and that his clothes were torn. He was trembling and seemed to not even be aware of it. The look of terror that seemed to be fixed in his features struck a chord in her and her eyes widened with the sudden realization.

This man was in the same situation that she was.

He saw the girl beginning to relax a little and continued to stroke her hair. "My name is Elliot," he said softly. "What's your name?"

She groaned in pain and he nearly lost it. He had to fight to keep his composure as she writhed around in total agony. Taking a shuddering breath, he looked her over and decided to try and free her hands.

The girl opened her eyes, tears streaming down her face. She was startled to see tears coming down the man's face as well.

"I have a daughter around your age," he said softly, beginning to scoot a little ways away from her head. "Her name is Maureen. She goes to NYU." He kept talking to her as he looked for a way to begin. "Do you go to school anywhere?"

She gulped. "Stan-Stanford," she whispered. A sudden pain ripped through her body and she shuddered violently, her face white.

Elliot's eyes widened when he saw this. "How long have you been here?" he asked gently.

"I-I don't know," she said, beginning to sob. "I st-stopped at the gas station for directions and…they…they…." She stopped talking, groaning again.

His stomach plummeted and he nearly puked. _Just like me…they got her just like they got me._

Taking a deep breath, he cupped her face again. "Alright, honey," he said nervously. "I'm going to try to get your hands free. Just relax, ok? It's going to be alright."

She moaned weakly. "No," she croaked, but he didn't hear her.

He got next to her left hand. He winced and shuddered involuntarily as he gingerly gripped the metal spike.

He barely moved it and she screamed out so loudly that he jumped.

"Stop, stop!" she screamed. "Please don't…please stop!" She whimpered and sobbed in pain.

His hands trembled. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to grip it again. He had to save this poor child.

Her agonized scream was too much. He dropped his hand halfway through pulling and sobbed.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry." He shook so hard that he nearly fell over.

The girl whimpered in pain, her body quivering.

Elliot took a deep breath and moved over to her stomach. The metal spike was wedged down between her rib cage and belly button. Leaning over to try and get a look at where it started, he suddenly saw her intestine.

His body heaved and he fell to the side, vomiting violently.

She heard the man being sick and knew he had been trying to see how to free her middle. She sobbed in despair and agony.

He groaned and shuddered over and over, unable to stop the vomiting. He threw up four times before he could get enough control to take a deep breath and calm down.

He shook hard as he shakily raised himself back up and forced himself to get back to it. Looking around her middle, he gingerly began lifting the spike.

She screamed immediately, her entire body convulsing. It took him a split second to see what was happening and he dropped his hand in horror, but the damage had already been done. Tears began streaming down his face uncontrollably.

The spike had torn open her entire stomach. The large piece of metal was wedged through her ribcage and heart and was now resting against her spleen. He could see her insides straining as she fought for every breath.

Her mouth bubbled with blood and she coughed, choking violently. Panicking, Elliot gripped it hard and pulled upward, grunting desperately. Her screams echoed around the basement. His hands shook so hard that he had to lean forward and press his body against them to keep them steady.

Tears streamed down his face as he struggled to remove the humongous piece of metal. _Help me, God…dear Jesus help me save this child._

"Please!" she howled painfully. A guttural sounding scream came up from her throat that made the hairs on his neck stand up. "Please **stop!**"

Elliot strained hard. "I'm going to get you out of here," he gasped tearfully. "I promise."

The girl arched upward as much as her body would allow and screamed louder than ever. His hand slipped and in the next second he heard the sound of bones breaking loudly.

"Jesus, oh Jesus," he gasped, scrambling to see her face. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking. Whimpers began coming from her mouth and blood oozed between her teeth.

Then she suddenly stilled. Her face was pasty white as her head fell back against the concrete floor. Her middle had stopped moving.

She was dead. His attempt to help had actually made it worse….he had killed her.

He screamed in agony, collapsing on top of her. Her blood soaked his hands and face as he lay quivering, sobbing so hard that he almost passed out.

He began to shake hard. Struggling to his feet, he began walking in a slow daze across the basement. He gasped in breaths, starting to hyperventilate.

He came around to the stairs again and heard a crunching noise on the ground. Looking down, he saw his cell phone lying on the ground. It must have fallen from his pocket when he tumbled down.

His chest heaved as he swooped down to pick it up, frantically flipping it open. The face plate was blurred because of his tears.

Sobbing, he prayed hard and waited for it to light up. The low battery signal flashed instantly. He quickly pressed the number three and continued to pray. The sound of the call dialing made him cry out in relief.

Suddenly, he heard the door open above him. He froze. Footsteps began descending down the stairs.

Don started out of sleep again and looked at the clock blearily. 3:45. He looked around in confusion and suddenly heard his cell phone ringing from down the hall.

Stumbling out of bed, he ambled wearily down the hall, feeling like he was under water. Hell, maybe he was dreaming.

The phone kept ringing. He flipped on the kitchen light, wincing at the painful brightness. His striped tiger cat, Tigger, looked down at him from her perch on top of the refrigerator and immediately jumped down, hoping to be fed.

Pushing her gently aside when she rubbed against his ankle, he stumbled toward the insistent ringing. Who the hell would be calling his cell phone at this hour? Dispatch always called his house if something happened after midnight, but he hadn't gotten one of those in a while.

He swore. If someone was pranking him….heaven help the poor teenage kid who roused Donald Cragen from his sleep.

Reaching for the phone, he glanced at the caller ID as he opened it: _Elliot Stabler_

"What the hell…?" he grumbled angrily, slapping the phone open. Why in God's name would Elliot be calling him at three in the morning? If he was drunk…Don's teeth clenched at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time he had gotten a call from a bartender asking him to come pick up one of his detectives. "Hello?"

No answer. "Hello?" he repeated angrily. He clenched his teeth. "God damn it, Elliot…are you drunk? I swear to God, if you are…"

The voice of the captain came over the line. Elliot frantically covered the phone with his hand, praying that they hadn't heard it.

"Where are you, boy?" Jed called out.

Their footsteps began circling the basement, making his heart race. He was lying on his stomach under the workbench, praying that he wouldn't be seen. Swallowing hard, he lifted the phone to his lips. His hands were shaking.

Cragen sighed angrily when his third response got no answer. He was exhausted and in no mood. "God damn it," he seethed angrily. "Put the god damned bartended on the phone now, Detective."

"Help…help me," whispered a shaky voice.

Don froze in surprise that quickly turned to horror. "Elliot?" he asked. "Elliot, is that you?"

"Ple-please," he stuttered as quietly as he could. "You have to help me."

The captain's heart began to pound. He had never heard Elliot's voice sound like that before. All thoughts of anger fled his mind immediately. "Where are you, Elliot?" he asked quickly, hand coming up to search for his car keys.

The black man stepped in front of the workbench. Elliot sucked in his breath and covered the phone with his hand, ducking his head. Tears streamed down his face as he shook hard.

"You think you can hide from us?" he called out.

"Elliot!" Don asked urgently. "Where are you?"

He pressed his hand harder against the phone to muffle the noise. It began to beep, indicating that it was seconds away from dying.

The man circled around the area. Elliot brought the phone down against the floor.

Cragen could hear him sobbing on the other end, and it scared the shit out of him. These weren't normal sobs. They sounded scared to death. He snatched the keys and ran for the front door, barefoot and clad in a t-shirt and pajama pants.

"Tell me where you are, Elliot!" he said desperately. "You have to tell me where you are!"

More sobs filled the phone. The captain's heart almost leapt from his chest in despair.

Silence filled the basement. Elliot's heart leapt in his throat.

He looked around anxiously, unable to see. He inched out from under the workbench to have a better look.

A growl sounded and he was yanked upward by his hair. He yelped and dropped the phone.

**Well…are we liking it? Please review on, it's Independence Day!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

The phone rang, rudely interrupting the quiet. After four times, a hand reached slowly for the nightstand and picked it up.

"Hello," Kathy murmured sleepily.

"Kathy," he said quickly. "It's Don Cragen."

She became wide-awake in an instant. Her heart hammered and her chest constricted as she slid up against the headboard.

"Oh, God," she said shakily, her eyes closing. She felt tears welling into her eyes. "Where is he?"

He knew instantly what she was thinking. "No, Kathy," he said in a hurry. "It's not that…do you know if Elliot went anywhere after he left your meeting today?"

She sagged in relief and let out a breath, her heart slowing. It took her a minute to process what he said. "Huh…oh," she said. Her face scrunched up in confusion. "Um…no…well, he didn't mention it to me, at least. Why? What's the matter?"

"I need you to see if you can get hold of him at his place," Don rushed on quickly, ignoring the question. "I've already tried several times and got no answer. Keep calling…don't stop until he answers, alright?"

The frantic tone in his voice sent her heart racing for an entirely different reason. "Don, what's the matter?" she asked again, panicked. "Has something happened?"

"Please, Kathy." His voice was desperate now. "I'll explain everything later, bur right now I **need** you to try and get him on the phone. Please…hurry."

"Al-alright," she said in surprise. "Alright, Don. I'll do it."

"Thank you," he said frantically and immediately cut the connection to dial another number quickly.

Kathy switched on the bedroom light and dialed her ex-husband's home number, her heart in her throat.

He saw the hatchet come down as he was yanked up and frantically twisted to avoid it, but he was too late. The blade came down and sliced into his left shoulder. He howled in pain loudly, jerking desperately to the left.

The black man had a firm grip on his neck and was forcing him still while the other one raised the hatchet again. His eyes flew wide and he stomped hard on the black man's foot, making him yelp in pain and loosen his grasp.

Elliot twisted away a second before the hatchet came down a second time. He screamed, feeling a whoosh of air as he twisted his body inward to protect himself. Fire began shooting down his left arm and he quickly reached up to clutch his bloody shoulder, feeling raw skin beneath his hand.

He darted away quickly, crashing into the cardboard box pile and stumbling through it in panic. The black man was on his heels in what seemed like milliseconds, swinging the hatchet wildly.

Gasping, he scrambled as fast as he could through the basement, looking around frantically for somewhere, _anywhere_, that he could dart into quickly enough to avoid the blade coming at him full force.

He suddenly stepped on something and slid forward, crashing to the ground hard on his back. Gasping, he quickly looked for what it was and saw that it was the metal scrap that he had used to free himself. Scrambling quickly, he picked it up and turned around fast.

The black man swung the hatchet down at where he had landed so fast that it seemed to blur. Letting out a terrified yell, Elliot thrust the piece of scrap forward and jammed into his shin, scrambling quickly out of the path of the blade.

The man shrieked in pain as the hatchet came down. Elliot backed up frantically, falling onto his back. The blade slammed into the ground just centimeters from where his feet had been. He froze in shock, staring dumbly at the spot, unable to process how close of a call it had been.

Jed came striding up as the black man stumbled to the side, growling in pain. Elliot scrambled to his feet and took off again. The man only stared after him as he picked up the hatchet from the floor.

Gasping in breaths, Elliot leapt onto the stairs and pounded up fast. He flew at the door and pushed with all his might….only to find it locked.

"No, no!" he whimpered, jamming his right shoulder into the wood. "Come on, you bastard, come on!" He grunted and pushed as hard as he could. It held fast. He yelled anxiously, tears welling up in his eyes, and slammed his hand desperately against the door. "God damn it!"

"Enough of the games."

Jed's voice made him jump in surprise and whip around fast. He was standing a foot away from him, holding the hatchet in both hands. His face was twisted into a furious scowl.

"No more running," he growled.

He advanced closer. Elliot backed up against the door, his breath loud and fast as he contemplated quickly his options.

_Rush to the left…rush to the right…plow into him…fake him out…_ His heart beat hard against his chest and he found himself shrinking against the door even more as he came closer. His mind screamed at him._ What are you doing? Don't just **stand** here! _

He remained frozen, his eyes fixated on the blade. When Jed got within inches, he found himself squeezing his eyes shut.

_God…take care of my children…please, take care of my children._

Olivia could feel her heart thudding frantically in her chest as she burst through the squad room doors. "What the hell's going on?" she asked anxiously.

She had been roused from her sleep by the captain's phone call. Her initial unhappiness at being called to another case in the early morning had been frantically interrupted when he cut her off, telling her to get down to the station right away. The tone of his voice surprised and worried her, and she had immediately agreed.

She knew right away that something bad had happened when she stepped into the bull pen. Munch and Fin were there already. She lived the closest to the precinct. Even if Cragen had called her last, she still should have gotten there before the others. They were huddled next to their desk while the captain spoke into the phone. Their tense postures only confirmed her suspicion that this wasn't just another case.

Then she noticed a fourth person standing a little ways to the side, and she was startled when she recognized Kathy Stabler. When she met the woman's eyes, she saw tears on her face, and her stomach went straight to her feet. There would only be one reason why she would be here at this time of night.

She rushed over to Munch and Fin, startling them when she pushed between them quickly. "What happened?" she asked again urgently.

Fin was staring down at the notepad that Cragen was hurriedly scribbling on with an anxious expression on his face. Olivia looked at his partner with wide eyes, her face reflecting her fear. He met her gaze and sighed, taking her arm and leading her over to the desk she shared with Elliot.

"Captain called us right after he called you," he said gravely.

She looked pointedly at Kathy and back at him. "Is Elliot alright?" she asked frantically. "That's why Kathy's here, isn't it? John….tell me what happened!"

He looked at her frightened expression. His grave sigh sent adrenaline coursing through her veins.

What in the world could have happened? Elliot wouldn't have gone anywhere because of a case without her….would he?

He began fumbling around on her desk, and she noticed that a cell phone was lying on it, next to a laptop computer. He attached a small cable to the charger hole in the cell phone and inserted it into the side of the computer. He typed a few things, keyed a few buttons on the phone, and then turned the computer towards her.

She watched him anxiously, aware of how he hadn't answered her. "He got this call about forty minutes ago," he said, turning up the volume on the laptop.

"Help…help me."

Olivia felt her stomach turn when she recognized Elliot's shaking voice. She could hear his frantic breathing echoing loudly.

Cragen's voice interjected. "Elliot? Elliot is that you?"

"Ple-please…you have to help me."

Munch closed his eyes at the words that he had already heard numerous times. Olivia had to fight for breath. Her partner sounded weak and scared…two things she didn't think she had ever heard before.

The captain's voice came again, asking him where he was. Her heart was hammering so hard that she thought she was having a panic attack. No answer. He asked again. No answer.

She was aware of muffled thumps from her partner's end and what sounded like a choking sound as Cragen continued to frantically ask Elliot where he was. Then the call ended.

Olivia stood frozen, startled when she looked down and saw her hands shaking as they gripped the side of her desk. A lump had lodged in her throat and she could barely swallow.

Munch took a shaky breath and looked at her. She struggled to reign in her emotions and turned toward him. "Did…did you get a trace?" she asked thickly.

"Chesterfield," he answered softly. "The cell phone company confirmed his location at 123 Cypress Terrace, in Chesterfield."

Her eyebrows immediately furrowed in confusion. "Where the hell is that?" she asked. She'd never heard of the place. Her panic began coming out as anger. "Why the hell would he be-?"

"That's where I asked him to meet me."

Kathy's voice startled her, as she had momentarily forgotten her. She had forgotten everything the minute she heard her best friend's voice. She turned and saw the other woman coming over to them. Fresh tear tracks were coming down her face.

"We met up with to discuss alimony today," she continued shakily. "My attorney wanted us to meet him in Chesterfield because he had a family emergency and needed to be near there."

The blood rushed to Olivia's ears. _My God, that's right…_Elliot had told her about it…he was gone all day yesterday.

"I…I don't know what could have happened," she said, starting to cry again. "We walked out together and left the restaurant at the same time! I don't know…Jesus, what if he was in an accident?" Her voice was becoming shrill. "We left at the same time…the same time! I saw him getting into his truck as I was leaving the parking lot!"

Her shoulders were shaking as she began to sob. "What am I going to tell the kids?" she said in anguish. "I should have called him while I was driving home to make sure he was alright…God, why didn't I call him?" She was sobbing hard now.

Olivia was still frozen, still trying to process her words, as John came quickly around the desk and went to her. He put his arms around her as she buried her face in his chest. John looked a little unsure of himself, but immediately hugged her reassuringly.

"We're going to find out what happened, Kathy," he said softly. "I promise, we're going to find him…it's going to be alright. We're going to go get him as soon as Cragen gets off the phone. He'll be alright."

His words seemed to break through Olivia's frozen shell then. She strode over to where the other two were, leaving John and Kathy by the desk.

"What are we waiting for?" she asked urgently. "Come on! We need to **get** there!"

"Alright, everyone just chill out!" Cragen snapped as he hung up the phone suddenly. "Look, we can't have chaos right now, do you understand?" He came over to the middle of the desks. "I just got off the phone with the sheriff of Chesterfield…he's going to call the Syracuse police and have them meet him at that address."

"What about us?" Olivia said quickly. "Captain, we have to go there!"

He shot her a look that made her shut her mouth quick. "I contacted the air patrol and told them to get a helicopter…it's the fastest way from here. They're getting it ready now."

Adrenaline began pumping through her veins once more as Olivia looked at the others. Fin looked anxious to go, nodding quickly. Cragen went over and picked up the notepad he had been writing on. "Whatever happens, we have to let the Syracuse PD handle it, you understand?" He looked pointedly at Olivia.

"Don?" Kathy had broken free from Munch and walked over while they spoke. "Can I go with you? Please?" She looked at him desperately. "I promise I won't get in the way…please, I have to know he's alright."

Olivia looked at her and suddenly felt something that she hadn't before. For the past year, she'd had ill feelings toward this woman. She had broken her best friend's heart and turned him into someone that Olivia hardly knew anymore. Anger and bitterness had instantly taken over and she had begun to hate her for what she had done to him.

Seeing her now was surprising. She knew that Elliot still cared deeply for Kathy, but she was now seeing that she cared for him too. She was beside herself, and Olivia knew that it was genuine.

Cragen looked at her sympathetically. "Kathy-" he began gently.

She broke down again. The captain came over to her and hugged her warmly. "I can't let you do that," he said. "It's too much of a risk….Elliot would kill me if anything happened to you." He kissed her cheek softly. "Go home, honey. I promise you, I'll call you as soon as I lay eyes on him. I promise."

Kathy looked into his face and could see the concern and focus there. She felt a fraction of her worry ease a bit. Don Cragen had never broken a promise as long as she'd known him.

Jed reached out and grabbed his arm roughly, yanking him forward. Elliot shot his fist out instantly, catching him on the side of his face, and twisted out of his grip to run down the stairs past him.

The black man was waiting right behind Jed. Elliot yelped when he shot forward and grabbed him as he was scrambling down, flipping him hard over his shoulder. He flew through the air and landed on his back on the cement hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

The two of them scurried down quickly. He tried to get up, but was in too much pain to move. He could only groan as the black man grabbed him roughly by the arms and began pulling him across the concrete.

But when he saw the other one pulling out two large metal spikes from the tool chest, he panicked, instantly remembering the horrible image of the girl. He kicked and yelled, wrenching his hands as hard as he could.

The black man growled, yanking him upward so fast that it startled him and pinning his arms behind his back. He glared into Elliot's face.

"Much too feisty, this one," he said lowly. "Much too feisty."

Elliot gasped as he was shoved forward suddenly and stumbled. The man slammed up against the wall. He was turned around fast and pinned with his arms above his head.

Jed came up in his side vision and quickly wrapped rope around his wrists as the other man held them firmly, jamming his knee into Elliot's middle to prevent him from kicking at him. Then he positioned the spike over his hands.

He screamed as loud as he could and screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the horrible pain. The hatchet clanked loudly against the nail and he screamed again. The black man suddenly lifted his weight off of him and moved away.

He shook hard, wondering what they were waiting for. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw the other man move away as well. He slowly turned his head upward and saw the spike nailed through the rope, effectively pinning him to the wall.

Relief at not having his hands nailed through made him shake more. He watched through eyes blurred with tears as they began rooting through some of the numerous cardboard boxes on the floor.

The black man came up with five glass jars and set them on the ground while the other man was busy spreading a large sheet on the ground. He reached back inside the box and pulled out several large candles, setting them on the floor beside the jars. Jed pulled out a small wooden box and opened it, scooping out piles of what looked like ashes. He spread them along the sheet carefully.

The black man got up and walked up the stairs. Elliot heard him calling for the others. He watched helplessly as he came back down again and began helping the other one.

Footsteps came clambering down the stairs. Elliot looked up and saw the older woman step into the basement. The young black woman followed, leading the blind woman that he remembered seeing at the store slowly.

The women came over and stood in front of him, seeming to be examining his quivering frame. The white one looked at him in disdain.

"You had to fight them, didn't you?" she asked in disgust. "See what you've done to yourself?"

She raised her eyebrows and shook her head, turning back to the men. The other woman appeared uninterested in him as she led the blind woman over to sit on the sheet.

"Have you got everything?" the older woman asked the younger man.

Jed nodded and looked to the black man. "Ready?"

The black man nodded as well. Jed moved to take three of the glass jars and waited for the woman to take the other two before they all walked over to Elliot. The black woman sat down beside the blind one on the sheet and waited.

Elliot squirmed desperately as they approached, wondering what they were doing. The sight of the black man picking up the hatchet made his mouth so dry that he couldn't even swallow. He wanted to plead, but found himself transfixed on the blade again.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, the black man moved up to stand directly in front of him. Elliot shook hard as he rested the hatchet on his left temple, his eyes pleading with the man but unable to speak.

He began slicing the blade across his face. Elliot screamed loudly and thrashed.

"Stop, please!" he screamed, fear making his vocal cords work again. He whimpered at the fiery pain. "**Please!" **

The man paid no attention, bringing the blade down under his nose and across to the other side of his face.

Elliot felt blood pouring from his face as he cried helplessly, gasping in breaths. The man lifted the blade once he completed and set it aside. His chest shook as he whimpered.

All of the sudden, a slicing pain from his injured shoulder made him scream. Whipping his head in surprise, he saw the other man had his hands dug into the raw wound and was pressing hard. He screamed again, over and over as the pain made him see spots.

Jed held the jar up and continued to squeeze hard, directing the blood stream into the glass. Elliot watched him, his face going white when he saw the blood spurting from his wound.

His knees suddenly gave and he collapsed weakly against the wall, sagging with the ropes on his hands. The black man gripped his face and he screamed again with the agonizing pain. He began squeezing blood into the jar that he held as well.

Elliot groaned and screamed, praying for God to take his life so that he could be put out of his misery.

"How much further, Mick?" Don said, leaning over the seat of the helicopter pilot.

The man glanced at the altimeter to check their altitude as he answered. "About twenty minutes," he said, glancing at him. The anxiousness on his face was easy to read. "I've got it full throttle…just hang tight. We're almost there."

He turned back to watch in front of him. The powerful light on the top of the bird illuminated the darkness they were going through. Below was nothing but fields.

Olivia leaned against the window and looked out anxiously while trying to keep herself in control. Elliot had to be okay. He had to be okay.

The captain glanced back at the three detectives sitting in the rear of the chopper. They were all quiet, determination and anxiety fixed on each of their faces. They were as worried as he was and struggling to hide it.

After a little while, Olivia suddenly saw something that made her heart jump.

Police cruiser lights.

"Guys!" she exclaimed, making Munch jump. She clambered against the window quickly. "Look, right there! They're right there!"

Mick spoke into his earpiece. "Jack, we're circling ya," he said. "Confirm status?"

A voice came through the radio. "Gas station," the man said. "Looks like a struggle inside…there's an abandoned Ford Explorer parked at the pump, black."

Fin met Olivia's eyes. "Elliot's," he murmured immediately.

"Can you land us?" Cragen said quickly.

The pilot looked around. "Jack," he said into the earpiece again. "I'm going to circle over and try to put us down. Confirm?"

After a minute, the voice responded. "Roger that, Mick," he said. "We're waiting for you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Chesterfield Sheriff's Deputy Justin Cognill was alerted by the sound of feet running towards the circle of squad cars and turned around, shining his flashlight in the direction of the noise.

Three men and a woman came running up the gravel path from the road. He could see guns on their hips and instinctively reached for his own as he looked for visible badges.

"Officer," the older man said quickly, seeing the move as they approached. "Captain Donald Cragen, Manhattan Special Victims Unit."

Cognill immediately took his hand away from his weapon. "Deputy Justin Cognill," he introduced himself. They skidded to a stop beside him, panting and looking frantic. The tall white man immediately began searching around with his eyes.

"Where is everyone?" he asked anxiously.

The deputy was momentarily distracted by the other man and the woman when they ran in the direction of the Ford Explorer. "Inside," he said, pointing towards the store. "Sheriff Haskins is waiting for you guys."

Munch and Cragen ran for the store.

Olivia immediately went to the driver's side and tried the door. Fin did the same on the passenger side. She cupped her hands around the window so that she could see inside.

"Locked?" Fin called out as he was trying the rear door.

"Yeah," she said, turning around. She looked intently at the deputy. "I need a slim jim."

Cognill turned and went to his patrol car. He unlocked the trunk and pulled the object from beside the spare tire, running back to them.

"Here," he said, handing it to her.

Fin was beside her now. Both men watched her quickly slide the tool in and pop the door lock. She put the bar on the ground and opened the door, immediately climbing inside.

She climbed into the backseat and looked in the very back, then checked the floor and under the seats. Fin leaned into the front, examining for any sign of a struggle. An open bottle of water sat in the cup holder. A map was draped across the passenger seat over top of several CD cases. Elliot had definitely been in there at some point.

Olivia came out and went around to the front of the truck. "Fin, pop the hood," she called. He pulled the lever and she lifted the hood up. The deputy grabbed the hook and helped her latch it in place.

She rested her hand on the engine. It was stone-cold. Her partner hadn't been here recently.

Biting her lip anxiously, she stepped back and came around the truck again, scanning the ground for scuffle marks. When she found none, she dropped onto her knees and looked underneath the truck, looking for any disturbances in the mechanics there.

"Liv."

Fin's voice made her whip her head up. She got to her feet and came to the open door.

Fin was halfway out of the car, bracing his feet on the truck's running board. He looked at her and motioned for her to look inside.

"Keys are in the ignition," he said, when she leaned in. His eyes traveled upward to check the mileage and gas. "Gas tank is full."

She met his eyes, her thoughts running on the same path as his were. It looked like someone had snatched him right from his own car.

Munch and Cragen entered the store and saw a group of about fifteen police officers standing near the front counter. Heads turned when they stepped inside and a man stepped out of the crowd immediately.

"You guys are from Manhattan, I assume," he said, coming to them. They both nodded. He offered his hand. "Blake Haskins. I'm the Sheriff of Chesterfield."

"Captain Donald Cragen, Manhattan Special Victims Unit," Don said, shaking his hand quickly. He gestured to John. "Detective John Munch." He also shook the sheriff's hand quickly.

Haskins nodded, immediately getting to business. "You're the one that called?" he asked, directing the question toward Don. He nodded affirmation. "We're looking for one of your guys, correct?"

"Yes," Cragen answered as John stepped around him to walk toward the group of officers. "Detective Elliot Stabler called me at around three this morning saying he needed help…he sounded like he may have been injured. When I traced the call back to his cell phone, the company gave me an address here."

Haskins nodded. "You're probably right about him being injured," he said as he led him over to the others. Don's heart constricted at these words. The group dispersed enough for him to see past it, and he saw several broken jars and cans on the ground.

"There is blood here," Haskins pointed the small puddle, now dried, on the floor, "and here." He continued upward and pointed to a shelf. Don saw blood on it as well. Haskins crouched down next to the blood on the floor and the captain followed suit, seeing scuff marks.

"We've got three different sets of scuffle marks," the sheriff said, indicating each one. "Judging from the direction" he looked down the aisle and Don followed with his eyes, "someone was dragged across the floor towards the back of the store."

Munch followed a group of officers into the back room, where several more were. "They took him into this store room," one of them said. "But there's nothing here to indicate how long he was here or what they were doing."

The detective listening with one ear while turning and scanning the room. There was nothing in the room except for a trunk against the wall that two officers were dusting for prints and a bowl on the floor. He furrowed his brow and turned again, doing a complete sweep.

There were no windows, and the screen door leading to the room just had a flimsy lock. Whoever had taken Elliot here had to have restrained him to keep him from escaping.

"Do you know who owns the gas station?" Don asked, looking around at the group of officers. Olivia and Fin came in from outside then, walking up to join them. The sheriff looked at the newcomers for a moment but didn't comment.

"We ran a copy of the lease through the system," one officer spoke up. "No one's had business here for almost ten years….the last people to run the store moved away in '97."

Munch walked around to the other side of the store, leaving the officers to their task in the back room. He grimaced in horror at the sight of the animal remains in the glass cases, quickly moving past it.

"Nothing in the back room," he said, coming up beside Cragen again. He noticed the other two standing with them now. "But if someone took him in there, they would have had to restrain him somehow to keep him inside."

Olivia clenched her hands into fists at the words, fighting to keep cool. Seeing the struggle inside had only intensified her worry and anger. Once she knew that Elliot was alright, she was going to beat the shit out of whoever had decided to do this.

Cragen looked to the sheriff intently. "Alright, Sheriff," he said demandingly. "Obviously Elliot isn't here. We need to get out there right now and start looking for him." He raised his eyebrows. "Have we got a plan?"

"Well, all we've got to the north is about twenty miles of farmland," Haskins said. "If you follow the road south, you'll hit the interstate. I've already got a patrol unit out that way searching, so we should stick to the north side."

He pulled a folded map from his pocket and opened it, handing the end to a few officers beside him to hold up. "Here's where we are," he said, indicting a section of the map. He pointed to a decent-sized portion and circled it with his finger. "We'll split up the north side; one team will head up toward the woods while the other follows the road."

Haskins looked at the captain with raised eyebrows. "Sound okay to you?"

Cragen nodded quickly and the sheriff nodded as well to confirm. He handed flashlights to the captain. "Let's move out," he said, turning to the officers. He stopped by the four of them as they were all going out.

"I suppose I don't have to tell you this," he said awkwardly. "But…technically you guys can't make any arrests up here…"

Cragen stopped him with his hand quickly. "We know, sir," he said. "I assure you, we'll let you guys handle everything…all we're concentrating on is getting our detective."

Haskins nodded again and gestured for them to precede him out.

When they stepped onto the porch, Cragen turned to his three and stopped them. "We stay together," he said sternly. "It doesn't matter who finds him, no one split up. Understand?"

They all nodded quickly, not daring to argue at this point. Don handed one of the flashlights to John and followed the officers toward the road.

Elliot groaned, spots dancing in front of his eyes. "Stop **it**!" he screamed, thrashing against the ropes. He groaned in agony again.

His shoulder was by far the source of the most pain. The man was ruthless, pressing and squeezing as hard as he could. The ropes on his hands were rubbing like fire into the cuts and gashes on his knuckles, leaving a smear of blood each time he moved.

"Here," the black man said, handing off another one of the jars.

When it passed in front of him towards the older woman, he almost passed out. The jar was full of blood…**his **blood. She set it down beside three other full jars on the floor. Jed handed him the last one and stepped away.

The men sat down next to the three women and handed them each a jar. Elliot watched them, horrified. What the hell were they doing?

The black man lifted one of the jars up and the others followed suit. He said something in a language that Elliot didn't understand, and they repeated it. As he watched in shock, they lifted the jars to their lips.

Before he even knew what was happening, his stomach was convulsing. He leaned forward as far as his restraints would allow and puked. They didn't even raise an eyebrow in his direction as they swallowed the contents.

He became aware of wetness on his face, and he didn't know if it was blood or tears. But it was at that moment he knew he had to do something. If he stayed there, he was going to die…and most likely in as unpleasant a way as possible. These people were beyond psycho.

Looking up blearily, he tugged down hard on the ropes. A groan escaped his lips and he swallowed it quickly, glancing over to see if they had heard. They weren't even looking at him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled with all his strength, forcing himself to ignore the new fire that was searing his right wrist.

"We call on you, Master," the black man said loudly. Elliot jumped at the tone of his voice, involuntarily cringing away. "We come to you now, Master…open the doors for us to adorn you with this, our humble sacrifice…"

The words made Elliot freeze as it suddenly clicked. Sacrifice…they were talking about him. _He_ was their sacrifice!

_Jesus, Lord Almighty... please, I beg You, don't let me die this way. Please! _

They began chanting, each one holding his or her head back and shaking. Their voices got louder and more exciting as they continued their foreign mantra.

When they stopped, the black man looked over his way and nodded. Jed nodded as well, and then the two of them began coming toward him. Intent was clear on their faces.

The black man stooped to pick up the hatchet as they advanced, rubbing the blade lightly in his hand.

_Oh, God...oh, God!_

Panic shot through his body faster than ever before. His entire frame shook as Elliot yanked as hard as he could on the ropes. His wrist twisted painfully and he couldn't hold in a yelp. As soon as he did, he felt the rope finally slip from underneath the nail.

His foot shot out in a flash and connected solidly with the black man's chest, startling him and knocking him back a step. Elliot immediately brought his bound hands forward and slammed them into his chest again as the man was coming forward once more. Using all of his strength, he shoved him back again and swept his leg out from under him, effectively sending him to the ground.

Hands immediately grabbed his arms from behind and began yanking him back hard. He knew this would be his only chance. As soon as the black man went down, Elliot snatched the hatchet from his hand and turned around.

With a yell of fury, he swung the hatchet hard. A growl of satisfaction escaped when he felt the blade connect and the man screamed in pain.

"God **damn it**!" he screamed, clutching his right arm. Blood spurted from under his fingers. His eyes blazed as he swung at Elliot with his good arm. "You're dead, you bastard-"

Blue eyes glinted with anger and fear as he came down again. He made sure to hit the same spot, and this time Jed went to his knees. In the next second, he was roughly yanked backward and on the ground.

The black man snatched the hatchet from him and hovered over him. "Say your prayers," he scowled, raising it up.

Elliot's eyes widened and he saw white. His mind was frozen, but thankfully his body wasn't. He rolled to the side and the hatchet slammed into the floor.

With a scream, he kicked hard up and connected with the man's groin. He yelled in agony and Elliot rolled away quickly. Grabbing the hatchet from the ground, he ran for his life towards the stairs.

"You can't run from me, boy," the black man growled, on his heels instantly. "You **won't** run from me!"

The man was only a step behind him. Gasping, Elliot raised the hatchet and swung it hard at the wooden door.

It got stuck in the wood as he was yanking it back. He tugged hard, tears running down his face, and suddenly felt something grab his foot. Gasping, he looked behind him to see the black man gripping his foot with both hands.

He frantically kicked at the man as he was simultaneously yanking hard on the hatchet. It finally dislodged from the door and he raised it again. The man regained his footing and began pulling harder, making him stumble and almost go down.

Aiming at the door handle, he slammed the hatchet down again. The handle fell to the ground.

Kicking hard to dislodge the hands, he pushed hard. The door opened and he ran, dropping the hatchet.

The black man yelled in frustration, scrambling to his feet. He bent to retrieve the hatchet before taking off after him.

Flashlight beams dotted the sides of the deserted road, illuminating ditches and piles of brush. Officers repeatedly called out Elliot's name as they searched.

Olivia's stomach had twisted into a knot at the very beginning, and it only got worse the further into the dark they went. She walked beside Fin as Cragen and Munch lit their way with the flashlights, sweeping slowly from side to side.

She couldn't get a grip on the fear that was eating at her heart. By the echoes of the yells from the other officers, it sounded like some of them were up near the lake, checking the water. Cragen purposely steered the group away from that area, feeling the same way as they all did. They couldn't handle it if someone did find him there.

Hitting the light on her watch, she saw that it was now almost 6 am.

Elliot tore out of the basement as fast as his legs would carry him and clumsily made his way around the hallway. He had no idea where the front door was.

He could hear footsteps thundering after him, and it made him panic. If they caught him again, there was no way he would get out of here alive. He was sure of it.

Racing into the living room, he looked around frantically without stopping. There was no time to lose now.

When he ran from that room, he saw the back door and almost wept with relief. He sprinted across the kitchen tile with his hands outstretched, planning to rip the fucking door off of its hinges if that's what it took to get out of here.

The black man suddenly skidded in front of him from another room on the other side, the hatchet raised high for a strike. Elliot grabbed the counter in the middle of the kitchen and threw himself over it, the blade once again missing him by mere inches. Hitting the floor, he ducked and rolled under the island.

"You're not getting out of here," the man growled angrily. Elliot could see his feet from where he was crouched. The hatchet slapped in his hand. "No one escapes Chesterfield…no one."

His eyes narrowed into intent slits when he saw the back door just beyond where the man stood. His heart pumped wildly as he poised for action, his muscles tight.

There would only be one chance. If he didn't time it perfectly, he was dead.

The black man pursed his lips, still slapping the blade on his palm. He could see the man cowered under the island, an unwise move on his part. The island was right in front of the stove, so he had no way out except to go past him. He was trapped now.

He would try to run, of this the man was certain... they all tried. This one was by far one of the more difficult ones he had seen over time, but the challenge only made the victory sweeter.

"You've got two choices," he continued, sweeping with his eyes. "You can come willingly, or I can make you come out."

Elliot gasped in breaths, listening to the man's taunts.

"Come on," he said teasingly. "Try and out run me…come on. I'll give you a head start; come on…let me enjoy the chase."

The sound of another set of footprints coming alerted Elliot's ears. His eyes darted around anxiously, trying to locate the feet.

The black man pointed under the island. Jed grinned and stepped up on the other side.

Elliot's heart sank when he saw the feet move over to the other side, recognizing them as the other man's. Now they had both sides blocked. Panic surged again.

What the hell was he going to do?

"That was a lucky shot you had back there," Jed spoke up.

He fingered his torn shoulder gently, the blood running all the way down his arm. Elliot could see drops of it hit the floor from his position.

He scowled, his face twisting as he continued angrily, "You won't get the chance again." He reached quietly for the steak knives sitting in a basket on the counter by the stove.

A knife came under the island out of nowhere, piercing his left shoulder blade. Elliot yelped and twisted around quickly to get away from another blow. His middle came poking out from underneath the island and the black man lunged on the opportunity.

He clamped his hands around Elliot's waist and yanked him hard. Unprepared, Elliot stumbled across the floor and into the cabinets.

_One shot…one shot…you have to take it right now._

His gut screamed at him that this would be his only chance. When the black man came at him with the hatchet raised, the look on his face was murder.

Rolling quickly, he sprang to his feet and turned to meet the man head-on. The hatchet was coming down fast and he shot his bound hands up instinctively, one palm connecting full-force with the black man's nose.

The man howled, feeling the bones breaking, and dropped his hold on the hatchet. Elliot dodged the blade as it hit the ground and rushed around the man. He yanked hard on the back door handle expecting it to be locked, and was surprised when it opened.

When he jumped off of the stoop onto the grass, he heard the faint echo of sirens in the distance. Tears of relief came rushing out.

Thank God Almighty…finally someone was coming to save him.

There was no time to revel in the relief. Jed's voice screaming behind him made him whip around fast, and he jumped when he saw the man coming towards the back door.

"You're dead!" he yelled angrily. "**Dead**!"

He was running before he even realized it. The chain link fence tore into his palms as he struggled awkwardly over it, but he didn't even feel it.

The yell echoed in the still night air, freezing the four of them in their tracks. Olivia was running in a second. "Come on!" she screamed, looking at the others behind her in alarm. "Come on, you guys!"

The three men caught up in a second. Ahead of them, officers were sprinting through the woods.

He was so tired. He had to force himself to pump hard, his chest burning every time he gasped in a breath. He didn't know if Jed was following him, but he didn't look behind him for fear of losing his sense of direction. Pitch black woods were all he could see around him.

He suddenly tripped on a root and went flying, gasping and biting his tongue hard with the surprise. He hit the dirt hard, the force slamming the wind from his stomach.

Struggling painfully to his feet, he shakily kept going. Where were they? Where **were** they?

Stopping, he gasped for breath while looking around. It was a mistake.

The shout came from nowhere, making him jump, and then a knife blade was tearing between his ribs. Jed struck a second time, slicing into his jeans right below the hipbone with a fierce growl.

Elliot screamed out in pain and instantly began fighting the man off. His hands caught the knife as it was coming down and he struggled to wrestle it away from him as the man grabbed his injured shoulder. The pain made him go to his knees as he tried as hard as he could to avoid the next stab.

The painful scream sounded so close that it made Cragen gasp. Shouts of command from the officers ahead made his blood freeze as they hurried even more.

"POLICE, DROP THE WEAPON!"

The sound made Elliot gasp in relief as a swarm of officers came from the trees to surround them. His hands still held Jed's wrist, trying to stop him from bringing the knife down. The man froze as more officers came out, their flashlights illuminating them.

"I repeat, **drop** the weapon **now**!" someone yelled fiercely.

The four of them burst out to join the officers, guns out and ready. Elliot saw them behind the man and his eyes widened in shock and relief.

Olivia's eyes immediately flew to her partner and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of all the blood on him. He looked exhausted and terrified.

Munch had his gun trained on the man standing over Elliot, his heart thudding anxiously. He swallowed hard and tightened his finger on the trigger, ready for anything.

Cragen's eyes widened when he saw the position of the knife and the way the man was gripping Elliot. His blood began pumping faster and he gripped the gun tighter.

Fin tightened his jaw angrily and aimed the gun right at the man's head. One move…one move toward Elliot and this guy was meat.

The tense standoff lasted only a minute, but it felt like hours. A sudden shot rang out and pierced Jed's shoulder, making him jerk and yell in pain. He dropped the knife and the officers swarmed them.

Elliot staggered back as officers stepped protectively in front of him, others restraining his attacker quickly. He gasped in shock, starting to shake as reaction caught up to him.

"Elliot," Olivia breathed as they ran past the officers toward him.

He looked even worse close up. His face and torso were bloody, his shirt ripped. His hands were tied in front of him and he was shaking. Dirty tear tracks had dried on his face and his eyes were exhausted.

The four of them surrounded him and began reaching to help support him. They were all surprised when he twisted and pushed at them before stepping back again.

"Guys, don't," he said breathlessly. He rested his hands on his knees and struggled to catch his breath. "I'm fine. I'm ok." He began wheezing, closing his eyes. His shoulders were shaking.

They glanced at each other worriedly, but didn't move toward him. He was obviously not ok; they all saw the spectacular wound on his shoulder and the ropes on his hands. He looked to be in shock.

He straightened after a minute, shakily taking a breath. His eyebrows furrowed suddenly and he pushed through his friends, startling them. He strode over to the officers holding the man quickly.

"There's another one," he said, pointing. "In the house…it's about five miles east." He gulped in a breath, suddenly feeling very nauseous. "The women….they-they're part of it too."

Haskins looked sympathetically at him before turning toward the officers. "Jack," he said, rounding up about ten officers with his finger.

He didn't even have to continue. The officer pulled his gun instantly. "We'll get them, sir," he said, looking at his colleagues. His face was twisted in anger. "We'll get them." With a nod at the sheriff, the group headed back into the woods.

He could see the detective trembling when he turned back to him. His eyes were filled with tears as he looked at him in exhaustion.

"The house," he stammered. "They-they're…they're in the house. They're in the house…"

The sheriff moved forward quickly and wrapped his arms around the younger man's shaking frame. He could see the other detectives rushing towards them.

"Easy, son," he soothed, supporting his weight. "Just take it easy…they'll get them. I promise."

Warm tears were sliding down his face now. Elliot felt a hand lightly grip his unhurt shoulder. Cragen stepped up, nodding his thanks to the sheriff as he slowly released him.

"Elliot," he said softly, gently pulling him towards them.

Elliot looked at him wearily and allowed him to slip his arm around him. He leaned into the embrace in exhaustion as the other three came up.

Olivia looked at the captain and he nodded, moving his arm from Elliot's shoulder and allowing her to take over. She wrapped one arm around his waist as Don started untying his hands. Fin and Munch were both applying pressure to the wound on his shoulder.

Don looked over at Sheriff Haskins and dropped the rope to the ground, lifting Elliot's hands and gently flexing them for him since he couldn't feel them anymore. After a brief glance at the others, he left him with them and walked over to where the man stood.

"Sheriff," he said softly, looking at him squarely. He offered his hand. "Thank you."

Haskins smiled gently. "I know how I'd feel if it was one of my men," he said softly, accepting the handshake. He jerked his head slightly. "I called two patrol cars to come give you a ride back to the helicopter…we'll take care of everything here."

Cragen smiled. "Thank you," he said again. "Thank your guys for us as well, please…are you sure there's nothing we can do to help?"

He nodded, clapping the other man's shoulder lightly. "Just get that boy home, Captain," he said softly.

He looked behind him to where the detectives stood and Don followed his gaze. Olivia was now hugging Elliot, who appeared to be crying. Munch stood on one side with his hand draped lightly over Elliot's collarbone wearing a sympathetic expression; Fin was on the other side with his hand on his back, rubbing gently while looking to be speaking softly.

The sight made a lump swell in the captain's throat. He swallowed hard and looked at Haskins again.

"We will, Sheriff," he said softly. "Believe me…we will."

**The End**

**So…there it is. I'm actually surprised that this became a story; the idea popped into my head as I was preparing my _next_ story and wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. Thank you to all who reviewed! The next one is in the works as always and will be up probably tomorrow- I know, I know…I have no life. There. I admitted it…happy: Thanks for reading.**


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